It does not appear that the princess entertained any pleasing sensations about the alliance she was about to form. She was probably too young to have any personal feelings as regarded her bridegroom elect, and doubtless the sorrow she experienced arose from the thought of the entire separation from her family. The ladies in attendance on her observed that, after this alliance was declared, she became pensive, reserved, and disquieted, though always gracious, without taking upon herself more state, or requiring more homage from the persons admitted into her presence. A conversation with one of her relations throws some light on the nature of her feelings. As she had never been farther from the metropolis than Windsor, before she went abroad to be "sacrificed on the altar of inauspicious Hymen," she said once to her aunt, the Princess Amelia, previous to the departure of the latter for Bath, "I wish most heartily that I could obtain permission to accompany you, as nothing would give me more pleasure and satisfaction than to travel in my native country: but this indulgence I cannot expect, since princesses of the blood royal, like cockneys, seldom go beyond the bills of mortality." To which her Royal Highness replied, "I should think myself very happy were this exception to be made in my favour: but I dare say it will not be long before you see more of England, and some foreign country into the bargain." "I guess what you mean," replied the Princess Caroline, "but perhaps it would be more happy for me to remain as I am, than to go so far for a prince I never saw. To be or not to be? that is the question." The same feeling, though in more guarded language, is expressed in the following letter:—

To H.R.H. the Princess Mary of Hesse Cassel.

Madam and good Aunt,

I give your Royal Highness my most sincere thanks for your congratulation upon my approaching marriage: but really I do not know whether we are not rather objects of pity than envy, when we are politically matched with princes whom we never saw, and may not, perhaps, find in us those charms which, if even real, are too often eclipsed by the beauties of a court set off with national partiality. I am sensible of the honour his Majesty of Denmark has done me, by singling me out from among so many amiable princesses, perhaps more worthy of his choice, but my youth and inexperience make me apprehensive of not fitting the highest station of a kingdom according to the expectations of subjects, who seldom think themselves obliged to us for the little good we do, and always impute to us part of their grievances. However, as my scruples will not in the least avail, I shall do my best to please the king and to conciliate the affections of his subjects. I am glad that this alliance is an additional affinity to your Royal Highness, of whom I am

The loving niece,
Caroline.

The death of Frederick V. of Denmark and accession of Christian VII. on January 14, 1766, offered no impediment to the marriage; on the contrary, it appears as if it were solemnized, in consequence, earlier than had been originally intended. The general opinion of the British public was favourable to the marriage, which was preceded by one between a sister of Christian VII. and the prince royal of Sweden. The double marriage appeared to cement the Protestant interest, and thus counterpoise the close union of the House of Bourbon. Moreover, it was hoped that the French influence, which had so long prevailed at Copenhagen, would be abolished in favour of the Anglo-Prussian system, and—to quote the words of the "Annual Register"—"it is not to be doubted, but the amiable princess whom his Danish Majesty is about to espouse, will contribute greatly to increase these good dispositions, as well as the harmony and friendship which still subsists between our court and nation and those of Denmark."

On June 3, 1766, a message from the crown was delivered to the House, asking a portion for the Princess Caroline upon her marriage with the King of Denmark. Dyson, in opposition to the ministers, offered a precedent against taking the message into consideration, except in committee or the next day,—a strange disrespect, unless it had been concerted with the king. This occasioned a long debate, in which Conway greatly distinguished himself by his spirit and abilities; and Dyson's motion was rejected by 118 to 35. Next came a message for a settlement on the princess. Augustus Hervey proposed to amend the address, and to promise to take it into immediate consideration. This, too, was outvoted; and Charles Townshend spoke finely on the occasion with great encomiums on the Duke of Grafton and Conway.[18] The portion actually voted was £100,000.

At half-past seven in the evening of Oct. 1, 1766, H.R.H. Caroline Matilda was married at the Chapel Royal of St. James. H.R.H. the Duke of York was proxy for the King of Denmark, and the ceremony was performed by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. Next morning, at a quarter past six, her Majesty set out from Carlton House for Harwich, accompanied by H.R.H. the Duke of Gloucester, the Honourable Lady Mary Boothby, and Count von Bothmar, her Majesty's Vice-Chamberlain and late Danish Envoy in England, in a train of three coaches, escorted by parties of light horse, horse grenadiers, and life-guards, and a numerous train of domestics and attendants. The parting between the Queen of Denmark and H.R.H. the Princess of Wales was extremely tender; the young queen was observed on getting into her coach to shed tears, which greatly affected the populace assembled in Pall Mall to witness her departure.

Her Majesty arrived at Harwich at a quarter to four on the 2nd October, where Admiral Keppel was awaiting her with the royal yacht. During the whole journey from London she was seen to be buried in deep thought, and to gaze frequently and sadly at a talisman given her by her affectionate mother—it was a ring, with the inscription "Bring me happiness." Could she have had a foreboding of the fearful fate that awaited her at Copenhagen? Nature, too, appeared to oppose her departure, for the wind blew so heavily that it was not thought advisable for the queen to embark that night. She lay at the house of Mr. Davis, collector of customs, and spent the evening in writing the following letter to her favourite brother, the Duke of York:—

Sir and dear Brother,

I have just time enough to write you these few lines from England. If patriotism consists in the love of our country, what I feel now at the sight of that element which, in a few hours, shall convey me far from this happy land, gives me a just claim to that virtue. Perhaps you men, who boast of more fortitude, call this sensibility weakness, as you would be ashamed to play the woman on such an occasion; but, in wishing you all the temporal felicity this life can afford, I confess all the philosophy I am mistress of cannot hinder me from concluding, with tears in my eyes,

Sir, and dear brother,
Your most affectionate sister,
Caroline.

On the next morning, October 3, her Majesty embarked at half-past eleven, and her sobbing heart found at least some relief and comfort in a flood of tears. Of this circumstance an eye-witness remarks: "The tears of her Majesty, on parting from the dear country in which she drew her first breath, might have inspired in those who beheld them gloomy forebodings as to the issue of the voyage she was about to undertake." In another account we read how the queen was dressed in bloom colour with white flowers. Wherever she passed, the earnest wishes of the people were for her health, and praying to God to preserve her from the perils of the sea. A gentle melancholy at times seemed to affect her on account of leaving her family and the place of her birth; but, upon the whole, she carried an air of serenity and majesty which exceedingly moved every one that beheld her. As Mrs. Gillespie Smyth justly remarks,[19] "how irresistibly do these details of the contemporary chronicler, in the quaint language of the times—the bloom-coloured dress and so on, suggest to those acquainted with the sad sequel the idea of an unconscious victim proceeding to her doom!"

The very sea seemed reluctant to surrender its lovely burden, for it was not till the 9th, a little before nine o'clock in the morning, that the queen safely landed at Rotterdam. Thence she set out for Utrecht, in the Prince of Orange's yacht. The Prince of Orange, the Prince and Princesses of Nassau Weilburg, and Prince Louis of Brunswick, received her Majesty on her landing, and conducted her to the apartments in the Admiralty House, which the magistrates of Rotterdam had fixed upon as the most convenient for her Majesty to arrive at, and where she was pleased to accept the compliments of the regency of that city. The Princess of Weilburg accompanied the queen through the town to her yacht, amidst the acclamations of the people, where the Prince of Orange again received her Majesty, and took leave.

Her Majesty travelled viâ Osnabrück, Lingen, and Utrecht to Harburg, and, on October 18, reached Altona, where she was welcomed by the viceroy of the duchies, Baron von Dehn, in the name of her consort. The joy with which she was received was almost indescribable. The bridge prepared for her royal reception was covered with scarlet cloth, on one side of which were ranged the ladies, and on the other the men, and at the end were two rows of young women, dressed in white, who strewed flowers before her Majesty as she approached. "The illuminations were inconceivable," the chronicler, lost for language, concludes. On the 22nd she set out for Copenhagen with Baron von Dehn.

In England the marriage was accompanied by the usual loyal addresses, which require no special comment, except in the case of that presented by the city of London, in which Mr. Recorder alludes to the auspicious marriage with that great "potentate" the King of Denmark, which leads to the notion that Englishmen must either have had a very poor opinion of their own country, or else could afford to be generous when referring to that tight little kingdom of Denmark. Another remarkable fact for the verse-writing century is, that I do not find a single epithalamium or flourish of poetical trumpets in honour of the marriage. Even loyal Mr. Whitehead, who earned his sack most honestly, and neglected no opportunity to give his Pegasus a canter, found no inspiration in the royal marriage.

At this point in Caroline Matilda's life I will leave her for a while, in order to introduce the reader to the other principal actors in the strange eventful drama of her life. We have seen how she was transported at once from the bosom of a happy private family to the morally aid physically frozen regions of the north. Born after the early and sudden demise of her father, this posthumous pledge of conjugal affection must have grown closely to the widowed mother's heart, while at the same time we can fully understand how genial must have been the atmosphere in which the natural talents and acquired accomplishments of the youngest of a large and happy family were previously developed. She left her home without the slightest acquaintance with the external world, "as unprepared to encounter its stern realities as some tender exotic, from her favourite summer abode at Kew, would have been to meet the blasts of the climate to which she was transplanted."[20]

CHAPTER III.

In 1460, after the expiration of the Schauenburg race, the estates of Schleswig-Holstein elected as their prince the same Count Christian of Oldenburg, who twelve years previously had been elected King of Denmark, and bears in history the name of Christian I. At this election, among other regulations, were two, to the effect that, first, Schleswig should never be reunited to Denmark, but that Schleswig and Holstein "should remain eternally undivided and together;" and, secondly, as regarded the succession, it was established that, by virtue of the law of succession prevailing in the German empire from the oldest times, in Schleswig-Holstein only the male branch of the House of Oldenburg should succeed by right of primogeniture. The female line was thus excluded, while, on the other hand, it was admitted to succession in Denmark. In the event of the male line expiring, therefore, the same thing would occur in respect to the united kingdoms of Denmark as happened, in 1837, with regard to the united kingdoms of Hanover and Great Britain. In England the female line was capable of succeeding to the throne, while in Hanover, by virtue of the old imperial law, only the male branch was admitted. When William IV. died, in 1837, the nearest female collateral succeeded him in Queen Victoria, while Hanover fell to the nearest male agnate, the Duke of Cumberland.[21]

Frederick V. received from his subjects the honourable surname of "the good," as did his grandson, Frederick VI., after him. Judging from contemporary records, he hardly earned the title, toward the close of his reign at any rate. Queen Louisa, a daughter of our George II., was literally adored for her goodness of heart and beauty by all her subjects, whether Danes, Norwegians, or Germans.[22] Hence great pity was felt when the young prince lost this tender mother in his third year, for she died in 1751.[23]

The blow was so terrible to the king that he was inconsolable. Sir C. Hanbury Williams, arriving three weeks afterwards to deliver a letter of condolence from King George II., still found the royal widower in tears; not only was court mourning ordered for a year, but every public amusement in the whole kingdom was prohibited for the same period. Notwithstanding this order, when a few months had passed, the easy and feeble nature of Frederick V. made him forget the great loss he had sustained, and he looked out for another queen.

Scarce six months of the twelve had elapsed, during which his subjects were to mourn for him, when the king cast off gloom and fond remembrance by marrying the Princess Juliana Maria of Wolfenbüttel. This princess, the youngest of six daughters, had been educated so carefully as to enjoy the reputation of being one of the most accomplished, princely daughters of the time, while the fame of her beauty equalled that of her other brilliant qualities. Her eldest and second sisters were married respectively to Frederick the Great, and Prince Augustus William, the heir presumptive to the Prussian throne. But this step-mother was less able to play the part of a true mother to the bereaved royal children, because she was the exact opposite of the departed queen in disposition.

According to the author of "Northern Courts,"[24] the new queen was a little more than kin and less than kind. She hated the late queen's children, and, if she had dared, would have sent them to follow their mother to the grave. At an early age, in her father's petty court, she was a great dabbler in political intrigues; in her temper, she was sullen, cruel, and vindictive; extremely penurious, forgetful of benefits, but never failing to avenge an injury tenfold; above all, a most profound dissembler, and able to wear a smile on her face and show all manner of civilities to the person most mortally hated, and whose destruction, at that very moment, she might be planning.

After giving birth to a weak, deformed son, who offered a striking contrast to Louisa's fair and white-haired boy, there is a dark rumour that Juliana Maria so far gave way to her fury as to attempt to remove the future heir to the throne by poison. The story is told with much circumstantiality in the "Northern Courts," but we need not dwell on the painful details. Suffice it for our purpose to say, that the design was detected by Christian's faithful Norwegian nurse, and the secret was revealed to the omnipotent minister, Count Moltke. The affair, of course, reached the king's ears, whose feelings, from this moment, revolted against his guilty consort. Unfortunately, for the sake of drowning his sorrow, he fell into habits of intoxication, and the government entirely passed into the hands of Count Moltke, who was generally known in public by the ironical title of "King Moltke."

Nor does it appear that Juliana Maria gave up her machinations. We have it on the highest authority[25] that she strove by gold and promises to seduce the attendants of the child. Excursions were frequently made on the lake behind the castle of Fredensborg, to amuse the royal family. Christian, during one of these excursions, was more restless and troublesome than usual; entreaties and reproaches could not make him be quiet. A chamberlain of the name of Brockdorf, who was somewhat rough and unpolished in his actions, threatened to throw the young prince into the water if he would not be quiet; he really seized him by the arm, and was so awkward and unlucky as to give the prince such a push that he fell overboard, but was immediately saved. He never forgot this moment, and imputed the accident to a design on his life, made by his step-mother, that she might raise Prince Frederick to the throne. This suspicion grew up with him, and no one was ever able to eradicate it.[26]

Far be it from my wish to condemn the queen dowager on this evidence. I prefer to employ it in confirmation of the generally-expressed opinion that she detested her step-children, and would have gladly secured the throne for her own son. In any case, it is quite certain that, from the outset, Christian's education was entrusted to improper hands. After all, though, can we blame a mother because she anxiously interests herself in the welfare of her own son? It is probable that many of the stories connected with Juliana Maria rest on ex post facto evidence; and though I adhere to my opinion that she behaved with unnecessary cruelty to Caroline Matilda when she held the latter in her power, I do not believe that the stories which I have been compelled to bring forward against her are more than the natural exaggerations of party spirit. For instance, in the case of the accident in the water, how easily might that have occurred without the slightest premeditation?

On attaining his sixth birthday, on March 31, 1755, the prince was given his own household,—Privy Councillor von Berkentin being appointed principal governor. He was an old gentleman fond of peace and comfort in the highest degree, and hence the education of the prince was left entirely to Chamberlain Detlev von Reventlow, who was appointed his tutor. This gentleman, unfortunately, however, was an ignorant, arrogant, ambitious, and coarse man, and treated the young and promising prince with great harshness. He often punished his royal pupil, for trifling offences, so inhumanly, that the foam gathered on the delicate lad's lips; and when the poor little fellow, writhing with pain, sought help and mercy from the wife of his torturer, he was no better treated by her. Reventlow used to order very elegant clothes for his pupil from Paris; he presided at his toilet, and decided on his shoes and lace; then the austere Mentor would lead him into the court circle, saying, "I will go and show my doll."

If we may regard it as fortunate that the prince, under such circumstances, did not lose all inclination for learning, or sink into a state of imbecility, the results of this treatment were not the less injurious to him. He was endowed with wit and sense, but these qualities soon assumed a dangerous satirical tendency, from his hearing the incessant sarcastic observations which his tutor made about nearly everybody else. Reventlow had a habit of speaking most irreverently of the clergy and the Bible, though, at the same time, he was very strict about the prince regularly attending service, and when he came out of church, made him repeat the entire argument of the sermon. Afterwards, Christian stated that Sunday was his greatest day of torment; and he avenged himself, in his governor's absence, by giving extremely buffoon parodies of some of the sermons he heard in church. Reventlow had an amiable way of pinching him in church when his attention appeared to flag.

As an instance of Christian's sarcasm, take the following anecdotes. In one of Frederick V.'s dipsomaniac fits, he made Count Moltke a present of the magnificent palace of Hirschholm and all its costly furniture. The crown prince, hearing of this lavish act, went to his study, and taking in his hand a plan of the palace, carried it to Count Moltke, saying: "Content yourself with this, I beseech your excellency; and believe me, unless you possess the crown, Hirschholm shall never be yours." The second incident displays even greater sarcasm. On another occasion, the king desired Prince Christian to fill the glasses for himself and the count. The prince coloured, and hesitated. The king repeated his commands, telling him to fill for himself also; upon which, the spirited youth just filled to the brim the glass that stood before the count, the king's glass only half full, and into his own he poured scarce any wine. "Heyday! what do you mean by this, Christian?" said the king. "I mean, sire," he said, "to denote hereby our relative consequence in the state. Count Moltke, being king and minister, I filled the glass commensurate with his authority; you, my father, being the next person in the state to the count, I half-filled your glass; as for myself, being of no consequence whatever, I took no wine."[27]

"His Royal Highness," as the young prince was now addressed, received as his instructor Nielsen, ex-governor of the pages. Bernstorff had tried to acquire the German poet Gellert as tutor for the prince, but to the regret of all right-minded Danes, he declined the offer, and the man then selected for the post was very little fitted to educate a future autocrat. According to the instructions drawn up for his guidance, Nielsen was ordered to strive to gain his pupil's affection, so that the latter might find pleasure in his teacher's company. He was to begin with teaching him the Christian religion, and thus arouse in the prince a resolution to lead a virtuous course of life. The teacher must not strive to attain this object by making the prince learn a number of texts by heart, but by frequent repetition of those rules of life on which salvation and the fulfilment of Christian duties depend. The teacher must be equally careful that the prince should be accustomed from his youth up to pray morning and evening, and display love, obedience, and confidence toward the Supreme Being. In all these matters the teacher would offer his pupil a good example through the propriety of his own words and conduct.

After this had been effected, the prince would be taught to read and understand a book, and to write a legible hand. The teacher would also try to give him a knowledge of Latin, but before all the prince must learn the history of the neighbouring states. The prince would make himself acquainted with the topography of the countries from the latest maps, as well as with the genealogy and family trees of the princes, especially of his own ancestors, whose glorious exploits must be frequently recited to the prince, in order to encourage him in taking their virtuous and noble lives for his model. All this must be brought before the young prince in amusing narratives, so that he might acquire a taste for them. In all other matters connected with the prince's education, however, the teacher must consult with the tutor, Herr von Reventlow.

These general instructions certainly contained much that was excellent, but of what avail are the best regulations, if they are not followed? Nielsen troubled himself but little about gaining his royal pupil's affection, and only too willingly had recourse to Reventlow's argumentum baculinum. The prince's education was neglected: he learned but little history and philosophy, and was left in complete ignorance of the principles of political economy. He was actually taught the history of Denmark from a French work written by Mallet. One step in the right direction, however, was that the Danish language, spoken in both kingdoms, was not so neglected as it had formerly been, for the whole entourage of the prince, with the exception of the foreign teachers, were prohibited from employing any other language than Danish in conversing with Christian;—a rule which was carried out as well upon Prince Frederick's birth, and was also pursued in the case of his young sister, who was afterwards Duchess of Augustenburg.

In 1760 a change for the better was effected, by Reverdil being appointed to instruct the prince in the French language and literature. This most upright Vaudois, of whom even carping Voltaire was obliged to say, "On peut avoir autant d'esprit que Reverdil, mais pas davantage," left behind him a very valuable MS. relating to Christian VII. and his court, which was published in 1858,[28] and throws an entirely different light on affairs. From him we have the following account of Christian when twelve years of age.

"The prince had a charming face: happy sallies of his were quoted: in his education, he succeeded in all the exercises for which he felt an interest; he spoke very pleasantly, and even elegantly, the three languages necessary at his court:—Danish, German, and French: and he was already a brilliant dancer. No one, in a word, even among his familiars, saw in him aught but an amiable lad, from whom great things might be expected, when age had slightly calmed his first impetuosity." Still, in a very few days Reverdil perceived that if the prince was superior to the common herd through his graces and talents, he was not the less extraordinary in his faults. One of the most curious traits about the prince was to desire to become strong, vigorous, and "hard," and he imagined that he was much more favoured by nature in this respect than he really was. Reverdil has no doubt but that this was a sign of incipient insanity. Christian looked at his hands, and felt his stomach to discover whether he was advancing, that is to say, whether he was progressing toward a state of perfection which he vaguely imagined, and about which his ideas often varied. The following explanation Christian himself gave Reverdil some twelve years later, at the period when his mind was completely deranged.

The king remembered that, at the age of five years, he was taken to an Italian play, and that, struck by the stature and dress of the actors, he had regarded them as beings of a superior species, whom he would some day come to resemble, after undergoing numerous trials and metamorphoses. From that time he always desired to advance: but after a while supreme perfection appeared to him to be the possession of a perfectly hard body,[29] a quality which was connected in his mind with the idea of strength, at the time when Reverdil entered on his duties: for, with strength, he could have resisted his governor, while with insensibility he could have been pinched and beaten, without feeling pain. When in this state of mind, the unhappy boy set but slight value on his princely rank. He envied the lot of the shepherds whom he saw in the country, or the gamins in the streets. He frequently imagined that he had been changed at nurse by Frau von Schmettau, or at least that he should some day escape the misfortune of reigning.

The utter want of tact which Reventlow displayed in the treatment of his princely pupil, would be incredible, if we did not have it on the authority of Reverdil. When the governor was more annoyed than usual, he would shout through the apartments for a rod, for though its use had almost entirely ceased, the threat of it lasted some time longer. These wretched scenes were public, for they could be heard from the palace yard, and were frequently continued outside the school-room. The crowd, who came to worship the rising sun, had the object of their homage presented to them in the shape of a very handsome and graceful boy with tear-swollen eyes, who tried to read in his tyrant's face whom he should address. When the circle was ended, chosen courtiers were invited to dinner. The Mentor seized on the conversation, or at times continued his questioning and rough treatment. The lad was thus exposed before his own servants, and grew familiarised with shame.

We can quite understand how the poor little fellow said once to Reverdil, "The amusements of yesterday considerably wearied my Royal Highness," for never did a child of such illustrious rank enjoy his privileges so little. One day, when Count Moltke gave him a party, the governor did not allow him to be informed of it. He feared lest the thought of the pleasure might distract the prince's mind during lessons. The day was a stormy one; the prince was scolded and beaten, and cried up to the hour for the ball. All at once he was led away, without being told whither. Fear seized on him, and was connected in his brain with his secret manias: he imagined that he was being taken to prison. The military honours paid him at the door, the beating of the drum, the guards round his carriage, everything that could recall his courage, only terrified him; his mind was disturbed for the whole night, he took no pleasure in dancing, and several years after he reminded Reverdil of the affair with positive terror.

The prince also made some progress in the arts. He played the piano, and drew and danced a minuet with admirable grace. Proper attention was also paid to his military education, according to the custom of the day, for, in 1755, or when he was seven years old, the prince commanded a regiment at a review.

On attaining his twelfth year, Christian passed an examination in the presence of the ministers of state, the Bishop of Copenhagen, one of the chaplains, and the attorney-general. In their presence the prince answered questions, and discharged his memory of everything that blows had accumulated in it. Every one went away satisfied: the governor was overwhelmed with praise, the witnesses dined at court, and fancied the prince a prodigy. Christian himself was rewarded by three days' holiday.

During the next few years Reverdil suffered a martyrdom, for he saw that incessant efforts were made to destroy his pupil's faculties, while the latter learned nothing that appertained to his duties as sovereign. Not only was Christian taught nothing concerning the relations of Denmark with foreign countries, or the mode of government employed in his own, but he never even learned to manage his own expenses. When he ascended the throne, he had never spent a ducat for himself. Some years previously the king had given him a country seat: the prince had not appointed a gardener or porter of his own, or planted a single tree. Reventlow managed everything, and spoke very justly about "my melons and my peaches."

On March 31, 1765, Christian, after due preparation by the orthodox Bishop Harboe, publicly made his confession of faith at confirmation, and his behaviour and sensible answers produced a very good impression. But for all that he was still treated as a boy, even after he had been declared of age by the Emperor of Germany as Duke of Holstein.[30]

This was the more inexcusable, because, by the Lex Regia of Denmark the heir-apparent was declared competent to reign when he attained his fourteenth year; and, moreover, the king's failing health promised the latter no lengthened life. In 1757 or 1758 Frederick V. had suffered an attack of pleurisy, the natural consequence of his excesses. The ministers consulted clever physicians on his behalf, under an assumed name. The reply was, that if the convalescent did not change his mode of life, he ran a risk of a relapse, and a dropsy would end his days. The council of state laid this consultation before the king, who was greatly affected by it, and regretted that he had allowed his passion to gain such a mastery over him. But those who were acquainted with the palace secrets foresaw that the monarch would soon fall a victim to his intemperance, and leave the throne to his son. In December, 1765, the dropsy made such progress that the king's death appeared close at hand. His intellectual faculties were also attacked; the monarch, though naturally kind and affectionate, became difficult and violent. He constantly talked about augmenting his army, and placing it on the Prussian footing.

It is very probable that the insult offered the crown prince by keeping him aloof from the government emanated from the king's favourite, Count Adam Gottlob von Moltke, who would not let the reins of government out of his hands. On the other hand, the premier had no objection to the proposed marriage with an English princess, and the affair was taken in hand by Count Bernstorff. The English envoy thus reported to his court about the prince: "He has a pleasant and masculine appearance, a distinguished and attractive form, and graciousness and affability combined with dignity." In July, 1765, the portrait of Caroline Matilda arrived in Copenhagen from London, and was hung up over the writing-table of the crown prince. He gazed at it with pleasure, and evinced his satisfaction "by expressions of delight."[31]

On the night of January 13, 1766, King Frederick V. died. It is reported that about an hour before his death he called the prince royal to his bedside, and, taking him by the hand, said, "My dear son, you will soon be king of a flourishing people; but remember, that to be a great monarch it is absolutely necessary to be a good man. Have justice and mercy, therefore, constantly before your eyes; and, above all things, reflect that you were born for the welfare of your country, and not your country created for your mere emolument. In short, keep to the golden rule of doing as you would be done by; and whenever you issue an order as a sovereign, examine how far you would be willing to obey such an order were you a subject yourself."[32] A more than ordinary flourish of trumpets was raised in the English papers on the death of this monarch: the following may serve as a sample:—

"There never appeared in any kingdom more deep and affecting sorrow for the loss of a sovereign than now in Denmark on the death of their late king: his reign was a perfect model for all future reigns; his lenity was the more commendable, as the form of government gave him absolute power: he preferred the happiness of his subjects to all the considerations which ambition and vainglory could inspire: he was quick to reward, and slow to punish: his bounties were royal, and his chastisements paternal: in private life he ever appeared the true friend, the dutiful son, the tender husband, the good father, and the generous master."

The real truth of matters was, that during the last years of Frederick's reign, the foreign envoys had been by turns the de facto rulers of Denmark. In March, 1759, France signed a convention, by which she assured Denmark an annual subsidy of 2,000,000 francs. These subsidies were not paid with due punctuality during the Seven Years' War, and hence, in the year 1763, there were arrears amounting to 2,388,897 thalers, or about 10,400,000 livres. Gleichen, who was appointed Danish envoy to France in that year, received instructions to effect the settlement of the arrears, and we find, from his "Notices Biographiques," that he succeeded in procuring the Danish court six millions of the arrears.[33] These subsidies were paid Denmark to raise a fleet with which to protect the Danish ships conveying munitions of war to France; but Denmark was a heavy loser by the bargain, for the expenses not only greatly exceeded the receipts, but the affair also rendered England very dissatisfied.[34]

According as the representatives of foreign courts had at their command more diplomatic brutality, finesse, or money, the power was in turn with the Russian or French envoy, at times with the English, and they guided or ordered the Danish ministers, and through them the king. How matters went on is seen from the fact that about fourteen hundred French adventurers, mostly of the lowest stamp, were appointed in the Danish civil and military service. The French envoy had recommended, among other excellent Frenchmen, a sculptor, who set to work on a statue of the king, which gradually cost 700,000 dollars, but was not finished. When Frederick V. died, the country was in a hopeless state of ruin. The army and navy were neglected, the state debt was frightfully swollen, the taxing power of the country was exhausted, and the morals of the higher classes were utterly corrupted, while the lower classes were sullenly murmuring. Into this chaos of poverty, necessity, and discontent, the youthful king, it was expected, would introduce order, and hopes were entertained of him as the regenerator of Denmark.

On the morning of January 14, Privy Councillor von Bernstorff appeared on the balcony of the Christiansborg palace, and declared, in the traditional manner and with the words: "King Frederick V. is dead; King Christian VII. is living;" the late crown prince ruler of the united kingdoms. To which the people replied: "May he not only live long, but reign well, like his father."

During the late king's illness, the crown prince had been very sad, which the courtiers had regarded as a sign of sensibility; but those who were intimate with him were aware that he was oppressed by the fear of reigning. Reverdil inspired him with some degree of courage; and he went through the ceremonial receptions with a grace that charmed the entire court. No immediate change occurred in the ministry; but, for all that, the supreme power passed into other hands. The son did not inherit the father's great predilection for minister Moltke. On the contrary, the young king regarded the minister as a man who had misapplied his influence over the late king to his own selfish ends. These notions were suggested to him by Reventlow, who, though he deserved reproach in other respects, was honest, and hence not well disposed toward Moltke, whom he considered the fosterer of the great extravagance which had been carried on with the finances of the state under Frederick V.

Reventlow was so assured of his unbounded influence over the king, as to feel convinced that he would govern the kingdom in future. In pursuance of this, he had the drawers in his office endorsed—Denmark, Norway, the Duchies; and showed the king this arrangement, with the remark: "Here I shall keep the papers of the two kingdoms; and there those belonging to the duchy." The king smiled at the impertinence, and said nothing. At any rate, it did not cause him anger; for, ere long, he lavished marks of favour on Reventlow and his relations. On the day of his succession, he nominated his ex-governor chief gentleman of the bed-chamber; and a fortnight later, on the occasion of the king's birthday, the insignia of the Order of the Elephant, the highest in Denmark, were bestowed on Reventlow. On the same day, the king also appointed Von Sperling, his former page of the chamber, and a nephew of Reventlow, his third equerry.

This young gentleman possessed considerable influence over the king. Though not distinguished by any great ability, he was a handsome man, with an agreeable temper. From the day when the crown prince had an establishment of his own, he had been his page, and had cleverly contrived to acquire the friendship of his master, which he now intended to exploiter for his own advantage. According to Reverdil, this intimacy had a very deleterious effect on the crown prince; for Sperling was older than his master, and a thorough debauchee. He filled the prince's mind with dangerous knowledge, and contrived to influence his imagination and corrupt his heart.[35]

The country had no cause, either, to rejoice at the intimacy; for Sperling, through his indulgence in sensual pleasures, offered a bad example to the king, who, as it was, did not require example. The result of his strict education was, that he determined, so soon as he became his own master, to indulge in every form of vice, out of sheer obstinacy. A more dangerous man in this respect, however, was the king's valet, John Kirchoff. Reventlow did a real service, by removing this man from the presence of the king. On February 11, the valet was dismissed with a pension of 1,200 dollars, and his debts, amounting to 3,000 dollars, were paid by the treasury. But Reventlow, hearing that Kirchoff, instead of being grateful, was conspiring against him, ordered him to leave Copenhagen in a week; and he proceeded to Norway.

Shortly after his accession, Christian had an idea of becoming a great general, and imagined that he would surpass Frederick the Great. He often regretted to his cousin, Prince Charles of Hesse, that he was born on a throne, and believed that he could have raised himself to it by his talents and deserts, if he had been born in the lowest class. He had an unbridled passion for female society, but had not, as yet, found an object on which to fix his affections. He had been imbued with very strict religious principles, which he could not combat, and which he consequently wished to destroy. He and Prince Charles frequently spoke about religion; and the latter strove to soften the severity of the king's views, by leading him back to the love of God. One afternoon, when the prince went to Christian, he found him greatly troubled in mind, because he had to take the communion the next morning. The prince spoke about it as the most blessed and significant of religious rites. They conversed for a long time, and the king was greatly affected; saying, of his own accord, that it was impossible for Christ not to have existed, and fulfilled, by His sacrifice, the very words of the institution of the holy supper, for ever since Christianity had been known, every sect, whatever might be its doctrine and heresy, had retained the sacrament. The two young men then prayed together, and the king was greatly moved. Going up soon after to the queen-mother, he went into her room, saying: "Grandmamma cannot guess what we have been doing?" The queen being unable to do so, Christian added: "We have been praying together, and were very pious;" and then almost died of laughing.

The young king had scarce taken up his residence at Christiansborg ere he had an affair of honour, if it may be so called, with a page of his chamber. The latter was a very honest and good youth. The king, before going to bed, maintained the opinion, that a king, who was at the same time a great general, was more than another king. The other, doubtless, willing to check the king's military ambition, thought himself obliged to defend the contrary view. Christian became very angry; and the reasonings of the page at length rendered the monarch so wild, that he gave his opponent a box on the ears. The latter went the next morning to complain to the grand chamberlain, Count Reventlow. The count was of opinion that the affair could not be passed over in silence; and made the page write a letter, in which he spoke strongly about the honour of a gentleman. The letter was dated from Kiöge, to which place the page pretended that he had retired. The king took the matter in very ill part; and Count Reventlow coming soon after to scold him, the king was not particularly pleased with him either. The matter ended here, and the page came back from the room in which he was hidden,—the king having stated that he bore no malice against the man, and that it was merely an outbreak of vivacity against an opposition which had displeased him.

These little scenes happened daily, and aided no little in causing the king to assume a higher tone. One day he had such a quarrel with the grand chamberlain, that the latter almost fainted. The king then became alarmed, and fetched a glass of water for him to drink: the chamberlain recovered, but insisted on retiring from his post. Queen Sophia Magdalena, who was Reventlow's great protector, sent for Prince Charles, and begged him, on every account, to patch up this affair, which had been carried too far on both sides. When the prince proceeded to the king, the latter spoke first about the affair, and gave his cousin an opportunity for representing the injury he did himself in the eyes of the public by dismissing his old governor. The king yielded; sent for Reventlow, spoke to him kindly, and begged him to forget the affair.

The representations which the prince was frequently obliged to make to the king against his decided opinions, naturally rendered their daily conversations less agreeable than at the outset. However, everything still went on tolerably well; and the king felt that his cousin had no other interest in what he said than the welfare of the kingdom. But gradually disputes about religion began. The king's desire for the society of females, and the strictness of his religious principles, were constantly in opposition. After speaking to his dangerous friends, who inspired him with the most relaxed principles about religion, Christian only saw one way of escape—by breaking with his own convictions. Prince Charles noticed this in Christian's dark humour: his love of gaiety changed to bitter remarks, and a desire to find occasions to quarrel about trifles. Seeing this almost insurmountable wish to break out in debauchery, Prince Charles thought it his duty to tell the king frankly that he could not do better than conclude, as soon as possible, his marriage with the princess who had been promised him. Christian regarded marriage as the greatest possible bore; but Charles, who was then engaged to the king's sister, looked at it very differently. The king, however, told his cousin to speak to Bernstorff on the subject; and the latter, understanding the state of matters, resolved to hurry the royal marriage on.[36]

A man, who distinguished himself in the naval history of the north, Count Frederick von Danneskjold Samsöe,[37] a grandson of King Christian V. and the Countess von Samsöe, who had been in the service of the state during the early years of Frederick V.'s reign, happened to be in Copenhagen at this time; and the young monarch ordered him to draw up a general survey of the condition of the kingdom. The count had performed the task by January 23. Danneskjold was a sincere friend of his country, but of a reckless and violent character. In his exposé, he threw the fault of the numerous defects and the mismanagement which he discovered in the administration, upon Bernstorff, and accused that minister of increasing the national debt. He declared that the marriage arranged with an English princess was displeasing to the nation. Bernstorff despised the Danes, and only appointed foreigners as officials. He favoured luxury by protection, and had allowed the army to fall into decay. The commercial treaty with Morocco had done the country the greatest injury; and finally, Bernstorff had revoked a royal decree about embroidery on clothes, and thus insulted the hereditary sovereign.

Although Count Danneskjold stood in high favour with the Queen Dowager Sophia Magdalena, who during the early part of the new reign had great power over the king, he was unable to overthrow Bernstorff. On the contrary, there were many signs that Bernstorff's influence had grown under the new king. Count St. Germain, however, was dismissed from the presidency of the War Ministry, which he had himself established, and Privy Councillor von Rosenkranz took his place.[38]

Bernstorff, Reventlow, and Moltke, formed from this time a triumvirate. Twice a week the privy council of state attended the king, but rarely left him a choice between two opinions. If the king expressed an idea that varied from theirs, they looked serious, and offered a protest, upon which the timid Christian at once held his tongue, and sanctioned the measure. Of course this conduct on the part of the gentlemen displeased the king, the more so because he had no very high opinion of them. That he did not love Reventlow, whose rough mode of education he had not yet forgotten, is only natural; Moltke he knew to be a man who only regarded his own interests, while Bernstorff's vanity and cringing subserviency were repulsive to him. To this must be added, that the wearisome way in which the discussions were carried on horribly bored the young king; and many were of opinion that this was purposely done by the triumvirate, in order to disgust the king with governing. They cared very little how Christian spent his time, or what associates he selected, so long as there was no evident attempt to tear the power from them. For this reason, several men of talent, whom they feared, were removed from the king's person.

The royal family consisted, at this time, of the widows of the two last kings,—Sophia Magdalena and Juliana Maria, the son of the latter, the hereditary Prince Frederick, and the three princesses—Charlotte Amelia, a sister of Christian VI., and Sophia Magdalena, and Louisa, sisters of Christian VII. A third sister of the king, Wilhelmina Caroline, was married to William I., Elector of Hesse Cassel.

The old queen, Sophia Magdalena, a princess of Brandenburg Kulmbach by birth, had exercised great influence over public affairs during the sixteen years of her husband's reign, and would have gladly done the same now. Juliana Maria had, as yet, not interfered at all in state affairs, although she doubtless strove to acquire influence as much as her mother-in-law.

Reventlow, who probably felt that he was not as securely seated in power as he would have liked, hence looked about for a supporter, and found a most willing one in the king's grandmother. By laying aside her former haughty demeanour, she contrived to gain considerable influence over the king, and gave way to all his whims, in order that she might keep him in her leading-strings. One day, the king, who was continually playing tricks, when dining at Hirschholm took up the sugar-dredger, slipped behind grandmamma's chair, and began sprinkling her hair.

"What is your Majesty about?" the old lady asked.

"Do not be angry with me, dearest grandmamma," the king said; "I am your sweetest Christian, you know."

The queen smiled, and swallowed the pill in silence.

Such jokes caused the young king, even at that time, great amusement. Once, when he was at the theatre with a circle of brilliant courtiers, wearing his gold-embroidered admiral's uniform, he walked up and down the back of the royal box with a grin on his face, which was always a sign that he was meditating some trick. In one of the entr'actes, when tea was handed round, a young lady was trying to cool the hot fluid by blowing it, when the king crept up to her and blew such a blast into the cup that its entire contents spirted about. The king quickly turned on his heel, and laughed so heartily and childishly that the lady could not but forgive the trick which had procured him a few merry moments.

With the summer, fresh proofs of Sophia Magdalena's powerful influence were given. She heartily detested Count Moltke, because he had contrived to keep her aloof from the business of the state, and she now, after an interval of sixteen years, wished to avenge herself on him. The favourable moment had arrived. The king did not think that Moltke had truly served his country. Reventlow desired nothing more than the downfall of his brother-in-law, and Bernstorff no longer required the powerful patron who had gained him his ministerial post.

At the beginning of summer, the king, accompanied by his relatives, visited various public resorts,—among others, the park, on St. John's day, when a great public festival is held there annually. During a visit which the king paid to the convent of Wallö, which was founded by Sophia Magdalena, the latter succeeded in overthrowing the detested premier. The order which stripped him of all his offices, except the presidency of the Academy, was handed to him by Privy Councillor von Plessen, whom Moltke had previously turned out of office. Moltke was dismissed without a pension, and retired to his estate of Bregentved, which had been given him by Frederick V.

The old queen wished to place Danneskjold Samsöe in Moltke's place. For this object, she persuaded the king to summon him to the privy council, and he was soon after re-appointed to his old office of "Surintendant de la Marine," with a salary of 8,000 dollars. Rosenkrantz was also driven into the background at the same time as Moltke, and no one regretted his fall.

Space fails me to record all the intrigues that went on for the next few months, or how Bernstorff was all but overthrown by the jealousy of Danneskjold, and only owed his salvation to the generous intercession of Reverdil and the king's latest favourite, Prince Charles of Hesse.[39] Bernstorff was appointed Director of the Sound Dues, the most profitable state office, and the king imparted to him the charges which Danneskjold had brought against him. Bernstorff triumphantly refuted them, and appeared more secure of the royal favour than ever.

It was the usage for the kings of Denmark to visit their states during the first two years of their reign. Christian did not devote the summer of 1766 to any journey, as he was engaged with the marriage of his two sisters. The younger was married to Prince Charles of Hesse; the elder to the hereditary prince of Sweden. The latter alliance was the result of an old engagement contracted with the Swedish nation while the prince was still a boy. The Queen of Sweden, sister of the King of Prussia, would have gladly broken off the marriage, and given her son a princess of her own family; but the Estates insisted. The Danish ministers would sooner have advised war than accept such an affront.

These marriages being satisfactorily arranged, Christian VII. bethought himself of his own wife, for whom he did not feel so great a yearning as he had done a year previously, ere he had become his own master, and tasted the nocturnal delights of the capital in the far from cleanly company of his friend Von Sperling. The marriage had been originally arranged for 1767, but Christian's ministers and friends, seeing his tendency to libertinism, had wisely, as they thought, hurried it on. The sober Danes were beginning to mutter about the scandals which took place at night in the quiet streets of the Residenz. They had probably never heard of our Prince Hal, and hence could find no excuse for the wild sallies of their young monarch, in which he broke glasses and furniture, attacked watchmen, and more than once was taken into custody. Being such a roué as regards women, it appears surprising that Christian VII. consented to marry at so early an age; but it is probable that some latent suspicions about the designs of Juliana Maria urged him to listen to the advice of his friends. Hence, when the news reached him that Caroline Matilda was arriving, he hastened with a very good affectation of lover-like eagerness to meet her.

CHAPTER IV.

Judging from the mere exterior, Christian VII. ought to have produced an equally favourable impression on the heart of Caroline Matilda. The person of the young king, though considerably under the middle height, was finely proportioned: light and compact, but yet possessing a considerable degree of agility and strength. His complexion was remarkably fair; his features, if not handsome, were regular; his eyes blue, lively, and expressive; his hair very light; he had a good forehead and aquiline nose; a handsome mouth and fine set of teeth. He was elegant rather than magnificent in his dress; courteous in his manners; of a very amorous constitution; warm and irritable in his temper; but his anger, if soon excited, was easily appeased; and he was generous to profusion.[40]

From Roeskilde, the young queen was conducted to the palace of Frederiksberg, close to Copenhagen, where she stopped till Nov. 8, on which day she made her solemn entrance into the capital, seated by the side of her sister-in-law, the Landgravine Louise, and under the escort of all the grand dignitaries of the crown. The marriage ceremony was then performed in the palace chapel.

The kehraus was danced at the ball, and was led by Prince Charles of Hesse, who had his wife as partner, while Christian danced with Caroline Matilda. Suddenly the king, who was in very good spirits, shouted to Prince Charles, "Lead the kehraus through all the apartments." He passed through several rooms, and, on reaching the queen's ante-room, the king ordered him to enter her rooms, which he did. Frau von Plessen, however, rushed at Prince Charles like a dragon, and declared that he should never enter the queen's bedroom. The king, hearing this speech, said to the prince, "Don't bother yourself about an old woman's twaddle." The prince, therefore, continued the dance, and passed through the queen's bedroom. Frau von Plessen made a tremendous noise, which greatly displeased the king.[41]

In honour of the day, a large silver medal was struck, which displayed on the obverse the busts and names of the newly-married pair; and on the reverse, an allegorical female form, reclining upon an anchor, and holding a wreath of flowers in her hand, with the motto, "Recurrentibus signis." Numerous orders and titles were distributed in commemoration of this auspicious event.

The young queen, it is evident, won golden opinions from all manner of men. Even the Danish author of the "Secret History" is compelled to avow: "I saw this ill-fated princess when she first set her foot on the soil of. Denmark. I did not join in the shouts of the multitude; but I was charmed with her appearance. Everything she saw was grandeur and festivity; she was received like a divinity, and almost worshipped, at least by those of the masculine gender. Her animated, beautiful features, her fine blue eyes, beamed with delight on all around her."

The English envoy was so delighted at Caroline Matilda's reception, that he wrote home at once:—"The princess seems to gain approbation and affection wherever she shows herself, and those more closely connected with her praise unanimously and in the highest terms her disposition and conduct." The English cabinet, however, did not put entire faith in this enthusiasm. The youth of the princess could not but cause anxiety, because the king, her husband, was, so to speak, a child too. Hence the court of St. James sent the British agent the following warning advice in reply to the above outburst:—"Her Majesty is entering on the most important period of her life. At so tender an age she has been sent forth alone into a foreign distant ocean, where it will be necessary to exercise the highest caution and good sense, and to steer with thoughtful attention, in order that she may at the same time succeed in gaining the love of her court and people, and maintain the dignity of the exalted position to which Providence has summoned her."[42]

The warning was not unfounded. There are good grounds for believing that Christian, during the period between his engagement and marriage, had been entangled in other snares. It could hardly have been otherwise, when we bear in mind the deleterious influences brought to bear on him, and the temptations to which a boy who had been so severely educated was exposed, when he found himself his own master at the unripe age of seventeen. I do not hesitate to assert that the worst influences had been at work on the young king's mind and senses, and the following confirms my assertion. We have seen that the marriage took place on November 8, and on November 25, Ogier, the sharp-sighted French envoy at Copenhagen, considered himself justified in reporting to Paris:—"The princess has produced hardly any impression on the king's heart, and had she been even more amiable, she would have experienced the same fate. For, how could she please a man who most seriously believes that it is not fashionable (n'est pas du bon air) for a husband to love his wife?" A pretty specimen, forsooth, of the effect of the mistress doctrine which was omnipotent in the eighteenth century! We see that poor Christian, in a few short months, had made frightfully rapid progress in the corruption of his age. As Reverdil tells us, with a groan, "a royal person in his bed appeared to him rather an object of respect than of love."[43]

The queen's household had been previously appointed, and Frau von Plessen, daughter of Privy Councillor von Berkentin, was selected as grand mistress so far back as August. The choice was a most unfortunate one, for this lady, although respectable, was austere, haughty, and decidedly in opposition.[44] Her apartments were twice a week the meeting-place of all the malcontents, and the ministers and old courtiers, after dining with the king, went there to lament over the backslidings and corrupt society of the young people by whom the king was surrounded. Still, this choice, though unwise, was not so pernicious as that of Fräulein von Eyben as lady in waiting.

The good understanding among the other members of the royal family did not at first appear to be disturbed by the king's marriage. It is true that Sophia Magdalena, who was sixty-six years of age, and whose heart was distracted between fear of God and ambition, could not thoroughly sympathise with the girlish Caroline Matilda, but it is probable that she was the more willing to forgive her her youth and beauty, because she did not apprehend any political rival in her.

Juliana Maria, the king's step-mother, did not at first display any open hostility to the young queen. That she hated her as an obstacle to the advancement of her own son, there can be no doubt, or that she had made various underhand efforts to prevent the marriage. She was obliged to be cautious, however: she was not popular with the nation, and had held no sway over her husband, who toward the end of his reign hated and avoided a woman who was the opposite of his prematurely lost Louisa. Hence Juliana Maria hailed Matilda as the consort of Christian VII. with well-dissembled smiles and flattering blandishments. This task, however painful, she performed in her best style, and if her malice had not been so notorious, Matilda might have believed she should find an affectionate friend—a second mother in Juliana Maria.[45]

Princess Charlotte Amelia, the king's aunt, only lived for religious practices and charity. She inhabited the palace of Amalienborg, named after her, in the great royal market, which is now the Academy, and the memory of her benefactions to the poor still flourishes among the Danish people.[46] Princess Louise, the king's dearly loved sister, had only shortly before been married, and felt herself much too happy to envy her sister-in-law.

After the arrival of the young queen one festival followed another, to which the public were generally admitted, although some amusements were reserved for the court, to which only the élite were invited. At the commencement of Christian's reign only Danish plays and ballets were performed at the theatre, but now the king ordered a French troupe from Paris, who first gave their performances on the Danish stage, but afterwards in a theatre expressly prepared for them in the Christiansborg.

On December 4, the first masquerade was given at the palace to the first six classes, to which all the officers of the garrison and the foreign envoys were invited. During the reign of Frederick V., jovial though it was, no attempt had been made to introduce such mummeries, as the sober Danes called them, but Christian considered that he could go to any lengths.

The court, yearning for amusements of every description, even resolved to give theatrical performances, in which the king and suite played the chief parts. Among other pieces performed was Voltaire's Zaire, which exactly suited Christian's taste. It was played in the original, and the king represented one of the principal characters with great applause. At first, only a select circle was admitted to the performances, but, gradually, the public were invited as well.

But while the court amused themselves, the public, generally, murmured. At the head of the malcontents was Reventlow, who would rush into Frau von Plessen's apartments, brandishing the bills sent in to him for payment, and objurgating fiercely. His nephew, Von Sperling, knew how to stir up his bile, by casting on those whom he wished to injure the mad expenses which he had himself suggested. It was he, in fact, who most contributed to bring into fashion theatricals and masked balls. The youth of the king, and the ennui which began at an early period to oppress him, supplied an excuse for these expensive amusements, which were madness in a poor and indebted state. Still, the public might have pardoned it if the court had managed to attract respect, for nations, though victims to the magnificence of their sovereigns, readily forgive, and even take a pride in lavish expenditure when they believe they share it; but the king, indulging in the most puerile amusements, running without object from one palace to the other, and decried by the complaints of his own ministers about his private conduct, entirely forfeited public respect. A proof of this was furnished during the first winter of his reign. A building belonging to the palace, from which it was only separated by a canal, and in which was a brewery with an immense wood store, having caught fire, Münter,[47] a German preacher, took advantage of the occasion to preach a sermon against the king's person and the amusements of the court. He represented the misfortunes of the nation as being at their height and irremediable, unless Providence granted immediate help, and unless the warning just given produced a salutary effect. This sermon, it is true, caused the preacher a reprimand, but it was greatly applauded by austere persons and devotees.[48]