THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.
1769.
On January 14 Christian VII. returned to Copenhagen after an absence of
nearly eight months. Queen Matilda drove out to meet him, and husband
and wife exchanged affectionate greetings. Together they entered
Copenhagen, amid the firing of cannon, ringing of bells, and the joyful
acclamations of the people. The English envoy gives the following
account of the entry: "The Queen went as far as Röskilde to meet his
Majesty, which strong mark of her affection and regard could not fail
of affording him the highest satisfaction. Between six and seven
o'clock their Majesties made a public entry into this capital, under
a triple discharge of the cannon on the ramparts. The whole garrison,
as well as the burghers, were under arms, and permission having been
given a few days before to illuminate the houses, the inhabitants
vied with each other in doing this, as well as the short notice would
admit of, and in demonstrating their joy in every other manner they
could. The foreign ministers, nobility, etc., attended at the palace
of Christiansborg in order to pay their compliments upon this happy
occasion, which the King was pleased to receive, after he had made a
short visit to the Dowager-Queens."[108]
[108] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, January 17, 1769.
Thus did Denmark welcome home her prodigal son.
Queen Matilda had spent the greater part of the time since the King
left her at Frederiksborg,[109] some twenty miles from Copenhagen.
Frederiksborg was the most magnificent of the country palaces of the
Danish King, and has well been called the "Versailles of Denmark".
It stands to this day, and the site is one of the most picturesque
in Europe; the buildings cover three islands in a lake, connected by
bridges, the palace proper occupying the third island. The exterior is
rich in florid ornamentation, carried out in a warm sandstone, which
admirably harmonises with the time-stained brick of which the palace
is built. The windows look across the green water of the lake--a
vivid green nowhere seen as at Frederiksborg--to the gardens, laid
out in the old French style, with straight walks and terraces, and
clipped hedges of beech and hornbeam. The most magnificent room in
Frederiksborg is the knights' hall, and below it is the church, where
the Kings of the Oldenburg line were once wont to be crowned. This
church is the most ornate of any in Denmark; everywhere is colour--in
the traceried windows and frescoed walls, in the inlaid ivory work
of the stalls, the pulpit of ebony and embossed silver, and the
purple-vested altar with its golden crucifix. In short, Frederiksborg
is a magnificent specimen of the Danish Renaissance, and brings vividly
before us the life, the colour and richness which characterised the
court life of mediæval Denmark.
[109] Frederiksborg was built early in the seventeenth century by
Christian IV. on the site of an old building, and was used as a
residence by the Kings of Denmark until 1859 (Frederick VII. usually
resided there), when a large part of the building was destroyed by
fire. Thanks to the munificence of the King, the Government and the
public, and especially to Herr J. C. Jacobsen, a wealthy brewer, who
contributed a large sum, the palace has been admirably restored, and
the interior is now fitted up as a National Historical Museum. The
contents, which include many works of art, illustrating events in
Danish history, are not so interesting as one might suppose, but the
visitor to Frederiksborg is well repaid by the beauty of its exterior,
the magnificence of its chapel, where the work of restoration has been
admirably done, and by the old-world charm of its gardens.
At Frederiksborg Matilda spent the summer and autumn months of 1768
alone. She occupied herself for the most part in works of charity, and
strove to forget her own sorrows in relieving those of others. There
was no philanthropic institution in the kingdom which she did not
support, and in her immediate neighbourhood her name became a household
word for many acts of kindness and benevolence. The young Queen went in
and out among the poor of the adjacent village of Hilleröd, visiting
the sick and helping the needy. The fame of her good deeds spread
abroad, and the poor throughout Denmark, even thousands to whom she
was only a name, came to look upon her as a protectress and a friend.
They believed that the golden days of good Queen Louise had come back
again. "The English," they said, "send us not Queens, but angels."
For the rest, Matilda lived in great retirement. Occasionally she
received visits of ceremony from the Dowager-Queens, from Sophia
Magdalena, who lived at Hirschholm, or from Juliana Maria, who lived at
Fredensborg. The masked hostility of Juliana Maria continued unabated,
but the extreme circumspection of the young Queen's conduct gave no
occasion for cavil. Except the Dowager-Queens she saw no one beyond her
immediate household, and though most of these had been forced upon her
against her will, yet after the first restraint wore off she showed
to them no resentment. Her kindness and consideration won all their
hearts, with one exception--that of Fräulein von Eyben, who, though
pretending to be devoted to her mistress, was secretly working against
her. Matilda took no part in state affairs during the King's absence,
not even in ceremonial duties. Taking their cue from the King, the
Ministers who had been left to conduct the business of the state while
he was abroad, treated the Queen as a person of little importance, and
even neglected to pay her the ordinary visits of ceremony.
Since Madame de Plessen had left the court Matilda had no one to whom
she could talk freely, nor, except her sister Augusta of Brunswick,
had she any one to whom she could write without restraint. Augusta
had her own troubles too, but she kept a warm corner in her heart for
her youngest sister, and throughout life remained her truest and
staunchest friend. But, at best, letter-writing is a poor substitute
for personal converse, and at this time Matilda was much alone.
The young Queen must have often felt friendless and depressed as she
paced the terraces of Frederiksborg or looked down from the windows
of her apartments into the green water which lapped the castle walls,
or gazed out on the clear northern night, and watched the moonlight
play on the towers and pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes of a morning
she would wander forth to the beech woods beyond the gardens. These
beeches, mighty with age, are now, as they were then, one of the
features of Frederiksborg. They are always beautiful--beautiful in
spring, with their satin-smooth trunks, and branches still leafless,
but tipped with brown spikes flushed with purple, and already bursting
to disclose the woolly buds of silver within; beautiful in summer, when
the pale green leaves form a shimmering canopy overhead; beautiful when
the golden hues of autumn mingle with the russet-brown of the cones;
beautiful even in winter, when the leafless branches stretch like
lacework against the leaden hues of the sky, and the shrill winds from
the Baltic whistle through them, and the ground beneath is carpeted
with husks of their lavish fruit. Matilda grew to love these beech
woods greatly, and even to-day they are associated with her name.
The Queen had one consolation in her loneliness which was not hers
when she came to Denmark-- she had her son, and found much happiness
in him, for the maternal instinct was always strong in her. She could
no longer feel a stranger and an alien in a country over which her
son would, under Providence, one day rule; she was not merely the
King's wife, but the mother of the future King of Denmark. The Crown
Prince was at first sickly and ailing, but when the Queen went to
Frederiksborg, in defiance of court etiquette, she took the infant
under her immediate care, and kept him with her as much as possible.
During the summer, under his mother's watchful love, the little
Prince, whose life was so precious to the Danish nation, grew much
stronger. The English envoy mentions an audience he had with the Queen
at Frederiksborg soon after her arrival there, and adds: "The Prince
Royal, whom her Majesty was pleased to allow me to see, is greatly
grown since his removal to the country. The resemblance between his
Highness and the King's (our royal Master's) family is striking to all
those who have had the honour of seeing him."[110]
[110] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, July 9, 1768.
[Illustration: THE PALACE OF FREDERIKSBORG, FROM THE GARDEN TERRACE.
_From an Engraving, temp. 1768._]
The only ceremonial the Queen attended, in the absence of Christian
VII., was the inauguration of an equestrian statue of the late King
Frederick V. at Copenhagen in the late autumn. Shortly after this
function Matilda removed from the country to the Christiansborg Palace,
and there awaited the King, who did not return until two months later
than he at first intended. Matilda had now determined to make the best
of her husband, notwithstanding the reports which had reached her of
his dissipation in London and Paris. He was the father of her child,
and her interests were bound up with his. The future happiness of her
son, and the prosperity of his kingdom, largely depended on Christian
VII. It was clearly the Queen's duty to put aside her own grievances,
however great they might be, and make an effort to guide the King in
the right way. Therefore she welcomed him home as affectionately as if
no cloud had dimmed their parting eight months before.
The King was surprised and delighted at the change which had taken
place in his Queen's appearance and demeanour. The restful and healthy
life she had led at Frederiksborg had added greatly to her charm, her
figure had developed and her spirits improved. Christian had left
Matilda an unformed girl, he came back to find her a beautiful and
self-possessed woman. His wayward fancy was pleased, and soon the _mot_
ran round the palace that the King had actually fallen in love with
his own wife. He might well have done so, for she was by far the most
beautiful woman at his court. There is a portrait of Queen Matilda in
the Rosenborg at Copenhagen, painted about this time, when she was in
her eighteenth year. It represents her in the full bloom of her beauty.
The face is a pure oval, the brow lofty and serene, the nose delicately
chiselled, the lips full and red, the large eyes of a peculiar shade
of light blue, the expression a combination of youthful dignity and
sweet archness. Her hair is dressed high, and powdered after the
fashion of the time; she wears a blue robe, with a narrow edge of
ermine to betoken her queenly rank, and round her finely-moulded throat
is a close necklace of pearls. Even if we make allowance for courtly
flattery, the picture remains that of a woman of rare loveliness and
indescribable charm.
Though her heart was untouched, Matilda was no doubt flattered by her
husband's attentions, and she honestly tried to meet his advances
half way. Acting on the advice of her mother, her sister, and of all
who wished her well, she strove to please him, and in her desire to
hold his fickle favour, she even overlooked the fact that the hated
Holck was still in the ascendant. Perhaps she thought, by fair words
and guile, to undermine his ascendency. Her efforts, if they did not
add to her own happiness, at least conduced to the outward harmony
of the royal pair, and were coincident with a marked improvement in
Christian's mode of life. For the first few months after the King's
return this improvement was maintained; the nocturnal expeditions,
which had so scandalised the citizens of Copenhagen, were now entirely
given up; there were no masquerades, and the court became quite
decorous. Formerly the dinner used to be rushed through for the King to
hurry off to his apartments and occupy himself in unworthy pursuits.
Now the King and Queen dined in public nearly every day, and with
much ceremony. The leading ministers, the foreign envoys, and all who
distinguished themselves in the service of church or state, were in
turn honoured with invitations, and the conversation at the dinner
table became almost intellectual. Yet the court did not grow dull;
cotillons and minuets were often danced in the palace, and the opening
of the theatre for the season afforded much interest and amusement. The
centre of all this pleasant society was the young Queen, the praises
of whose beauty and amiability were on every tongue. Moreover, always
accompanied by the Queen, the King reviewed the fleet, inspected
the docks and fortifications of Copenhagen, and visited learned and
scientific institutions with the object of comparing them with those he
had seen abroad. The King also again endeavoured to interest himself
in affairs of state, attended councils and criticised many details
of administration. This remarkable change delighted alike the King's
ministers and his subjects, and they ascribed the improvement quite as
much to the influence of the Queen as to the result of his travels.
The Queen, it seemed at this time, was likely to become a power in the
state. The English envoy writes home:--
"Your Lordship (the Earl of Rochford) has been already acquainted with
the change that appeared in his Danish Majesty. Those amusements in
which he used to take delight no longer afford him any. The society of
the Queen seems alone to constitute his happiness. Her Majesty will
now, no doubt, obtain that just and proper degree of influence, which
her numberless amiable qualities entitle her to, and which she would
have much earlier enjoyed, had not the happy effect of it been too
much apprehended by some who did not expect to find their account in
it."[111]
[111] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, February 18, 1769.
Impressed, no doubt, by the warmth of his welcome in England, the King
of Denmark was now strongly English in his sentiments. He talked much
about his English mother, and delighted to honour anything which had to
do, even remotely, with England. For instance, he sent the order of the
Elephant to Prince George of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the youngest brother
of Queen Charlotte; he despatched a pressing invitation to the Duke
of Gloucester to visit Copenhagen, and he resolved to celebrate Queen
Matilda's birthday with all possible ceremony, not only as a mark of
her new-found favour in his eyes, but also because he wished to pay a
compliment, through her, to the royal house of England.
The Duke of Gloucester duly arrived at Copenhagen to take part in
the celebration of his sister's birthday. He was the first of her
family whom Matilda had seen since she left home, and she received
him with demonstrations of joy. Gunning writes: "Their mutual joy and
satisfaction on this occasion was greater than can be expressed".[112]
[112] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, July 11, 1769.
William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, was in his twenty-sixth year at
the time of his visit to Copenhagen. He was the least intelligent of
the numerous family of Frederick Prince of Wales, but he had some
sterling qualities, which made him resemble, more than the other sons,
his eldest brother George III. If he lacked the wit and brilliancy
of the Duke of York, he did not possess the vices and follies of the
Duke of Cumberland. As a boy he was dull and heavy-witted, and the
Princess-Dowager cared for him the least of all her children. According
to Walpole she used to treat him with severity, and then accuse him
of sulking. "No," said the Duke, on one occasion, "I am not sulking,
I am only thinking." "And pray, of what are you thinking?" asked his
mother with scorn. "I am thinking that if ever I have a son, I will not
make him as unhappy as you make me." The Duke of Gloucester grew up
a silent, reserved man, and shortly after attaining his majority, he
became enamoured of Maria, Dowager-Countess Waldegrave. His passion was
the more violent, because of the way his affections had been stunted
in his youth, and the obstacles to the attainment of his desire only
served to quicken his ardour. The obstacles were considerable, for
the Dowager-Countess Waldegrave, in consequence of a stain upon her
birth,[113] was hardly a meet woman for the King's brother to take to
wife, and, on the other hand, as she told him, she was too considerable
a person to become his mistress. She was a young, rich and beautiful
widow of spotless reputation and boundless ambition. Many suitors
were at her feet, among them the Duke of Portland, the best match
in England, yet by some strange perversity Lady Waldegrave rejected
them all, and engaged in a dalliance with the unattractive Duke of
Gloucester. The Duke's wooing was long and unsatisfactory; the King
and the Princess-Dowager did their utmost to break off the affair, the
friends of Lady Waldegrave remonstrated, and counselled prudence. But
threats, advice and warnings were all in vain, and at last the Duke
of Gloucester and Lady Waldegrave were secretly married in September,
1766, in the drawing-room of Lady Waldegrave's town house, by her
domestic chaplain. The secret was jealously guarded; some declared that
the young couple were married, others, less charitable, that they ought
to be, but the Duke and his Duchess let them gossip as they would. The
Duke was always with Lady Waldegrave in public, and his manner to her
was exactly the manner a man would treat his honoured wife. The livery
worn by her servants was a compromise between that of the royal family
and her own. But the marriage was not declared, and at the time the
Duke of Gloucester came to Copenhagen there seemed no probability that
it ever would be.[114]
[113] The Dowager-Countess Waldegrave was the illegitimate daughter
of Sir Edward Walpole (brother of Horace Walpole), by Mary Clement, a
milliner's apprentice. She was the second and the most beautiful of
three beautiful daughters, Laura, Maria and Charlotte. It was said that
after the birth of her children, Edward Walpole intended to marry Mary
Clement, but she died suddenly, and his honourable intentions were too
late. He, however, took the children, acknowledged them, and gave them
every advantage of wealth and education. When they grew up, though
their birth prevented presentation at court, they were successfully
launched into the best society. All three made brilliant marriages.
Laura married the Rev. the Hon. Frederick Keppel, brother of the Earl
of Albemarle, who subsequently became Bishop of Exeter; Charlotte,
Lord Huntingtower, afterwards fifth Earl of Dysart, and Maria, Earl
Waldegrave. Lord Waldegrave died a few years after the marriage,
leaving his widow three daughters and a large fortune.
[114] The marriage was not declared until 1772, when, in consequence of
a bill having been brought into Parliament to regulate royal marriages,
the Duke publicly acknowledged Lady Waldegrave as his wife. The King
was highly incensed, and Queen Charlotte even more so. They refused to
receive the Duchess at court, though the King had to acknowledge the
marriage as legal; consequently the Duke and Duchess went to Italy,
where they remained for some time. In 1776 they returned to England
with their two children, Prince William Henry and the Princess Sophia.
Their conduct was so irreproachable that a reconciliation took place
between the Duke and the King, and the Duchess of Gloucester and her
children were duly acknowledged. Prince William Henry of Gloucester
eventually married his cousin, Princess Mary, daughter of George III.
The Duke of Gloucester was received with every mark of respect, and
his visit to Copenhagen was a continual round of festivity. There was
a grand review of the troops in his honour, and a gala performance
at the court theatre. One day the King and Queen and the Duke made
an excursion to the ancient castle Kronborg at Elsinore, and were
entertained by the commandant of the fortress. The Queen-Mother, Sophia
Magdalena, gave a _déjeuner_ to the English Prince at Hirschholm and
Count Otto Moltke gave a ball. The Queen's birthday festivities are
described by the English envoy:--
"Saturday, July 22, was the anniversary of the Queen's birthday,
which not having been observed since her Majesty's arrival in these
dominions, by reason of the King of Denmark's absence, his Majesty was
determined to celebrate it now with as much magnificence as possible.
The court testified its joy on this occasion by a very numerous and
brilliant appearance.... In the evening followed a succession of new
entertainments at the court theatre, designed and executed purposely
in honour of her Majesty, and the day's festivity was closed with a
great supper at the King's table. On Monday began the second act of
this celebration. At six o'clock in the evening his Majesty and the
noblemen who performed a part in the Carousal,[115] richly habited
in Turkish dresses, and upon horses finely caparisoned, set out in
grand procession through the city, attended by the Horse Guards and
by a large band of martial music; at seven the procession returned to
the great area of the palace, and as soon as the noblemen, appointed
judges, had taken their seats, the exhibition began. One quadrille
was led by the King, the other by Count Ahlfeld, governor of the
city. The whole ceremony was very magnificent, and performed with the
utmost address and good order, in the presence of her Danish Majesty,
the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, his Royal Highness the Duke of
Gloucester, the whole court, and several thousand spectators. The
performance concluded soon after nine, and was succeeded by an elegant
supper and ball. The court returns this evening to Frederiksberg, where
there is a grand firework to be played off; the whole gardens are to
be illuminated, and, after a magnificent supper in a large building
erected for that purpose, a masquerade ball is intended, to which two
thousand persons are to be admitted."[116]
[115] The Carousal was a musical ride which the King and the courtiers
had been rehearsing in the riding school for weeks beforehand. _Vide_
Gunning's despatch, April 15, 1769.
[116] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, July 25, 1769.
The Duke of Gloucester left Copenhagen a few days after the Queen's
birthday, and returned to England. Though Christian had prepared all
these festivities in his brother-in-law's honour, he did not hesitate
to exercise his wit at the expense of his guest. The Duke was silent
and dull, and his lack of conversation was made a subject of ridicule
by the garrulous King. One day Christian asked Holck what he thought of
the Duke, and the favourite replied: "He reminds me of an English ox!"
The Duke was very stout for his age, and had a broad red face and large
ruminating eyes. The King laughed at Holck's witticism, and maliciously
repeated it to the Queen, who was incensed at the impertinence. If
the truth must be told, the English Prince did not appear in the most
favourable light at the Danish court. He stared and said little, and
chiefly distinguished himself by his enormous appetite.
When her brother left Copenhagen the Queen found herself once more
alone. His visit had been to a great extent a disappointment to her,
for he had little in common with his sister, and not much sympathy for
her in her troubles. These, as time went on, grew from bad to worse.
Despite all her efforts Holck continued in the ascendant, and his
influence was wholly against the Queen. He was known throughout Denmark
as the man whom the King delighted to honour, and even Matilda was
forced to show public marks of favour to the man whom she considered
her worst enemy. For instance, in September she was compelled by the
King to attend Holck's wedding to a daughter of Count Laurvig, "an
honour," to quote the English envoy, "never before conferred in this
kingdom upon any subject when the ceremony was performed out of the
palace; but indeed the whole of this had more the appearance of the
nuptials of a prince of the blood than those of a private person, the
King having conveyed Count Holck in his Majesty's chariot, at the
same time giving him the right hand from Frederiksberg to Copenhagen,
the Queen and all the court following".[117] Holck's marriage made no
difference to his mode of life, and Christian's infatuation for his
favourite continued as great as before. Mounted couriers tore along the
road between the Blaagaard, where Holck lived, and the King's palace
at all hours of the day and night, and on one occasion two horses were
killed in the wild haste with which the horseman rode to convey the
King's message to his favourite.
[117] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, September 30, 1769.
[Illustration: WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, BROTHER OF QUEEN
MATILDA.
_From the Painting by H. W. Hamilton, 1771._]
Nine months had passed since Christian's return from abroad, and
it was at last seen by his subjects that the hopes they had formed
of their King's reformation were doomed to disappointment. The
costly experiment of foreign travel had proved a failure. True, he
no longer scandalised his people with riots in the streets, or his
court with shameless disregard of morality, for his strength was no
longer equal to such exhibitions. The incessant round of dissipation
in London and Paris had shattered an already enfeebled constitution.
The King's tendency to melancholia became more marked every day, and
symptoms of the dread malady which before long overtook him began to
make themselves apparent. His delusions as to his prowess became more
frequent, and he showed strange aberrations of intellect. He was a
mental and physical wreck.
In October, 1769, Queen Matilda fell ill. Her illness was the crowning
indignity and proved the limit of her long-suffering endurance. With
it also came to an end the efforts she had bravely made since the
King's return to do her duty to her husband, and lead him to higher
things. This was the turning-point of Matilda's life, and explains, if
it does not excuse, much that followed after. She threw down her arms.
Insulted and degraded, it is no wonder that the young wife of eighteen
was filled with a disgust of life. The remonstrances of her physicians
were unavailing, she turned her face to the wall and prayed for death.
The Queen's condition was so serious that the English envoy thought it
necessary to write home the following diplomatically worded despatch:--
"I am extremely sorry to acquaint your Lordship that the state of the
Queen of Denmark's health has lately presented some very unfavourable
symptoms; which have given such apprehensions to her physicians, as to
make them think that a perfect re-establishment may be attended with
some difficulty, unless her Majesty can be persuaded to pay unusual
attention to herself. I am so thoroughly sensible how deeply it would
affect the King [George III.] to receive information of a still more
alarming nature, and so anxious to prevent it, that I cannot help
desiring your Lordship to represent to his Majesty that, though there
appears no immediate danger, yet the situation the Queen of Denmark
is at present in is too critical not to make it highly necessary to
obviate worse symptoms, and as this happy effect depends very much upon
her Majesty's own care, I believe she would be wrought upon by nothing
more successfully than by some affectionate expostulations from the
King, upon the very great importance of her life."[118]
[118] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, November 4, 1769.
It was at this critical moment, when her whole being was in passionate
revolt, when she was disgusted with her environment, and weary of life,
that Matilda's evil genius appeared upon the scene in the guise of a
deliverer. This was the King's physician--John Frederick Struensee.