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.
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:—