CHAPTER XI.
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.”