Hitherto the Danish court, outwardly at any rate, had respected Sunday, and the King and Queen had been regular in attendance at public worship. Now, though the King and Queen went to church sometimes to keep up appearances, Sunday was purposely selected as a day of pleasure. For instance, one Sunday at Hirschholm there was a steeple-chase in the royal park, and the King gave prizes to the winners. The races attracted a large and disreputable crowd. Nor was it enough to slight religious convictions; they were openly mocked at and derided. On another Sunday Brandt was guilty of the folly and bad taste of delivering a mock sermon from the pulpit in the private chapel at Hirschholm before the King and an assembled court, who laughed and applauded. At this exhibition it is only fair to say the Queen was not present. Naturally these things were repeated at Copenhagen, and the “revels of Hirschholm” formed a favourite subject of conversation and reprobation. The clergy fanned the flame of indignation, and many a covert allusion to Jezebel was heard from the pulpits. Moreover, by abolishing the censorship of the press Struensee had put a sword into the hands of his enemies, and before long many scurrilous pamphlets were sold in the streets, containing the coarsest abuse of the Queen and her “minion”. Caricatures in which the Queen and Struensee were grossly depicted, and satires after the manner of Juvenal, purporting to describe the orgies of the court at Hirschholm, were circulated in Copenhagen, and not only posted on the walls of houses, but even in the passages of the royal palaces.

All this popular discontent played into the hands of the Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria, who, with her son, Prince Frederick, lived in comparative retirement at Fredensborg, and sought, by the decorum of her household and by her regular attendance at public worship, to draw a contrast between her court and that of the reigning Queen. Juliana Maria had always been unpopular, but now, though she was not loved, she was respected, and became generally recognised as the representative of the old regime, which offered in so many ways a favourable contrast to the new. She took the place of the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, and her palace of Fredensborg became the rallying-place of those who were discontented with Struensee and his methods. It is quite possible that intrigues were set on foot at Fredensborg with the object of overthrowing the favourite, and it is probable that Struensee, who had spies everywhere, came to hear of them, and in revenge advised the reigning Queen to treat her brother-in-law and his mother with discourtesy, which was not only unworthy but unwise. Juliana Maria and her son were rarely invited to court, and when they attended they were often kept waiting for some time before the King and Queen received them, treated with little ceremony, and made to feel that their presence was unwelcome. Moreover, on the birthday of the Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria held her usual court at Fredensborg, but neither the King nor the Queen attended or sent congratulations, an omission which, under the circumstances, was very marked. Prince Frederick had been in the habit of attending the riding-school at Christiansborg, and had had free access to the royal stables. One morning on presenting himself there he was curtly informed that no horses could be placed at his disposal in future, and the riding-school was closed to him, as the Queen had reserved it for her own use.

A great deal of this Juliana Maria had brought upon herself by the scant consideration she had shown to the young Queen when she seemed a person of no importance, and by the malignant and unjust rumours she had circulated against her when she first came to Denmark. But Matilda would have done well to be magnanimous, for these slights provoked a reaction in favour of the Queen-Dowager. Juliana Maria behaved with great circumspection. She did not publicly resent the affronts put upon herself and her son, though she lamented them in private, and she was careful always to say that she in no way censured the King, but laid all the blame on the Queen and her favourite. Her hatred of Matilda deepened, and the most injurious reports which were circulated concerning the Queen had their origin in the salons of Fredensborg. The invalid King was represented as living in a state of terror under the dominion of his Queen and her imperious favourite. He was treated, it was said, with positive disrespect, if not with cruelty, by the minions with whom he was surrounded, and Matilda forgot not only her duty as a Queen and wife but also as a mother.

This last indictment had reference to the treatment of the Crown Prince. So far the heir to the throne had come little before the public, but suddenly there spread throughout the kingdom alarming rumours of the treatment which he suffered at the hands of his mother and her adviser, and such was the universal prejudice that these rumours were generally credited. It was said that the Crown Prince was neglected in a scandalous manner; he was left to run about the gardens of Hirschholm in all weathers, insufficiently clothed, with no one to look after him, and no companions but a boy of low rank; and his education had not yet begun. He was frequently beaten by his mother and Struensee, and shut up in an iron cage for hours together as a harsh punishment; his food was of the coarsest kind, and served in a wooden bowl, which was placed on the ground. Altogether he was treated more like an animal than a human being, especially one who would some day be called upon to fill a high destiny. Even the foreign envoys heard of this treatment of the Crown Prince, and commented upon it in their despatches. Gunning, who considered the matter not only from a political but also from a domestic point of view (seeing that the King of England was the uncle of the Crown Prince), wrote home in bitter sarcasm:—

“As no step taken in the education of a prince is without its importance, his nursery may sometimes present a scene not unworthy of attention. The philosopher of Geneva would hail the dawn of more enlightened days could he behold (as he might here) the scene of a monarch left from his cradle to crawl unassisted upon his hands and knees (like the nursling of a Norwegian peasant) and condemned to lose his meals, most philosophically concealed, unless he could discover them by the sagacity of his nose. Such are the maxims which obtain in the royal nursery of Denmark. The latter instance is no doubt calculated to sharpen the talent of investigation, a talent very requisite where the labyrinth of intrigue requires some such guide.”[158]

Notwithstanding Gunning’s authority, these rumours were shamefully exaggerated, and if they may be taken as a sample of the others circulated about the Queen, it is very difficult to say of any of them where fact ends and imagination begins. In this case they were not only untrue but cruel, for the maternal instinct was always strong in Queen Matilda, and she was never so happy as when with her child. Moreover, it was in her interest that the Crown Prince should have his health guarded in every way, for her position would be seriously affected if she were no longer the mother of the heir to the throne. The Spartan treatment, therefore, which the Crown Prince undoubtedly underwent, was sanctioned by his mother from the highest motives, for Struensee had persuaded her that it was the training of all others most conducive to the child’s well-being. From his birth the young Prince had been of a weakly constitution, and had shown a tendency to consumption; he had been pampered and spoiled by his attendants, with the result that he would not take the slightest exercise; he was fractious and peevish, and wanted always to be petted and amused.

Struensee, who was a believer in the famous treatment of Emile, changed all this, and urged the Queen to bring up her son as simply as possible, so that he would grow up to be a strong and a self-reliant man. The Crown Prince’s former attendants were sent away, and he was given the simplest fare, consisting of vegetables, rice boiled in water, bread and water, and milk and potatoes; no meat was allowed him. He wore light silk clothes, and went about bare-footed. He was bathed twice a day in cold water, and soon became so fond of it that he would go into the bath of his own accord. He was forced to take exercise, kept as much as possible in the open air, and made to run about the gardens in all weathers. His room at Hirschholm was a large one on the ground floor, some forty feet in length, and on the garden side it was closed in by an iron trellis-work, which accounted for the story that the heir to the throne was shut up in a cage. The little Prince had only one playmate, a boy who was the natural son of one of the court surgeons, and known as “little Karl”. These boys were always together, and no difference was made between them. They played, quarrelled and fought as they would, and no one was allowed to interfere with them, nor were any of the servants about the court suffered to speak to, or play with, the Crown Prince. This rule was kept very strictly. For instance, one day, when the little Prince fell in the garden and hurt himself, Struensee’s valet, who was passing, picked him up and tried to comfort him. For this breach of rule the servant was sent to the Blue Tower in Copenhagen and imprisoned for some time. The boy was not allowed on any pretext to take advantage on the ground of his rank. One day when he and his companion had some quarrel, Frederick asked Karl how he dared to strike a prince. “I am as much a prince as you,” the other boy answered. “Yes, but I am a Crown Prince,” Frederick retorted. Thereupon the two boys fought till Frederick won the victory. Struensee heard of this battle royal, and told the Queen, who, when she knew the cause, insisted on the Crown Prince begging the other boy’s pardon. As Frederick refused to do so, the Queen gave him a whipping. From this arose the rumour that he was frequently severely beaten. The charge that he was neglected rests on more foundation. One day during the autumn of 1770, at Hirschholm, the King and Queen and all the court went out hunting, and on their return very late the Crown Prince could nowhere be found. A search was made for him, and he was at last found lying insensible in the garden half-dead with cold. He was put to bed with a nurse, who took him in her arms and gradually restored him. The negligence in this case was due to the servants who had been left in charge of him, but the blame was laid upon the Queen.

The incident became known, and so loud and insistent was the popular clamour that the court physician, Berger, became frightened, and insisted on some modification of the Crown Prince’s treatment. Henceforth the boy was allowed to wear shoes and stockings, given warmer clothing, and his room was slightly heated in the winter. His diet was also made a little fuller; his rice was boiled in mutton-broth, and he was given meat-soup for dinner. His education, however, was still left severely alone, and at the age of four he could not speak any language properly, but only a jargon of Danish and German, which he had learnt from his playmate. The excuse put forward for this retarded education was that the boy was far from strong, and it was the Queen’s object to see his health thoroughly established before she burdened his strength with studies.

The Queen, as a rule, was indifferent to public criticism, but she was much hurt at the strictures passed on her for her treatment of her son, especially those made by foreign courts. It is possible that some remonstrance may have reached her from England, either from her mother or her brother, for she had drawings made of the Crown Prince, showing him with his little rake and spade and watering-can, playing in the garden, or leaning against his mother, all designed to show how healthy and happy he was. These were given to the foreign envoys for transmission to their respective courts.[159]

The best answer to this charge against the Queen is to be found in the fact that the Crown Prince threw off his early weakness, grew up a strong and healthy boy, and developed into a vigorous man, who lived to a sound old age. All through his life the Crown Prince Frederick (who afterwards became Frederick VI.) was able to endure much more fatigue than an ordinary man, and he always adhered to the simple and frugal habits to which he had been inured when a child.

The King and Queen remained at Hirschholm until late in the autumn, and then removed to the castle of Frederiksberg, near Copenhagen. Struensee and Brandt accompanied them in close attendance. Struensee now was a permanent inmate of the royal palaces, and wherever the court went he went too—a special suite of rooms adjacent to, or communicating with, the Queen’s apartments were set apart for him.[160]

At Frederiksberg the King and Queen lived in comparative retirement, but as unpleasant rumours were persistently promulgated about the King’s health, Struensee thought it well that Christian should occasionally show himself in public, and it was announced that the King and Queen would drive into Copenhagen every week to hold a court at the Christiansborg Palace. There was a general curiosity to see the King; but when the court was held he only appeared for a few minutes and spoke to nobody; the Queen then took his place and received the company alone. She was much mortified to see how the nobility and their wives held aloof from the court. But on reflection she could hardly have been surprised, for not only had recent legislation been directed against them, but the King had published a decree a few months before recommending the nobility to spend less time in the capital and more on their estates. Those who attended court now, outside the foreign envoys and the ministers and officials whose duties compelled them to be present, were chiefly the lesser and newer nobility, the professional classes and even the bourgeoisie. It was Matilda’s ambition to have a brilliant court. It was undoubtedly brilliant in the sense of display, and was largely attended, but the company who came could scarcely be said to add to its distinction.

The Crown Prince of Sweden (who afterwards ascended the throne as Gustavus III.) and his younger brother, the Hereditary Prince Frederick Adolphus, paid a visit to the King and Queen of Denmark at this time. The Crown Prince of Sweden had married Christian VII.’s elder sister, and this was his first visit to Copenhagen since his marriage. As Struensee’s foreign policy was to cultivate good relations with Sweden as against Russia, every effort was made to receive the princes with honour. A masquerade ball was arranged for their entertainment, plays and operas were performed at the theatre, and banquets, concerts and levees were held every day. Despite these efforts the Crown Prince of Sweden did not appear to be pleased with his reception, and he made audible comments on the strange company he met at the court of Copenhagen. At the masquerade, in particular, almost any one came who would. He pointedly asked the Queen what had become of the Danish nobility, several of whom he inquired for by name, and scarcely concealed his annoyance that they were not present to do him honour. One day, at the royal table, when he found that two or three of the wives of the principal merchants of Copenhagen were dining there, he sarcastically exclaimed, “And are there no Jews and Jewesses here too?” On another occasion a beautiful lady of the bourgeoisie rallied the Prince politely for not having acknowledged her obeisance, and he answered elaborately (in the hearing of the Queen) that he could not understand how the Swedish envoy had made such an oversight, for he had strictly ordered him to present every lady of noble rank who attended the Danish court, and he could only suppose the minister had forgotten as he had presented so few. These sarcasms were very wounding to the Queen, and her pride was much hurt. The Crown Prince of Sweden and his brother treated the King and Queen with studied deference, but they declined to regard Struensee in any other light than that of a man of almost menial birth, who might be useful to them politically. Struensee, who had arrogated to himself a foremost place at the Danish court, was incensed at thus being put outside the charmed circle, and vented his ill-humour on the Queen, who was sufficiently mortified on her own account. It was a relief to every one when the visit ended, and the Swedish princes betook themselves to Gottorp to stay with Prince Charles of Hesse, and amaze him and his wife with an account of the extraordinary proceedings of the court of Copenhagen. This was the only royal visit paid to the Danish court during Matilda’s regime, and it gave her no taste for others.

The state of the King’s mind made any repetition of this experience impossible, for Christian VII. was no longer able to play the host to royal guests. One of the current rumours was that Struensee and the court physician, Berger, who was his creature, tampered with the King’s health, and gave him drugs which dulled his understanding. Certainly, when the King appeared in public his dejected air and extreme indifference to everything that was going on around him gave colour to the report—which was not true. The fact was that the condition of Christian by this time had become hopeless; his mind had partly given way, and the greatest care was taken by the Queen and Struensee lest this should be discovered. For if the King were proved to be incapable of governing, what force had the decrees issued in his name? But the King was declared to be in perfect health, and the fiction of his absolutism was rigidly maintained. On the strength of this, sometimes, impudent demands were made upon him, when Brandt was out of the way.

For instance, one of the King’s pages drove his master into a corner, and said to him, “Your Majesty, make me a groom of the chamber”. Nor would he let the King out until he had granted his request, and the royal word once spoken could not be recalled. Occasionally the King aired his authority in a way which his keepers did not approve, and now and then a ray of intelligence crossed his brain which found expression in satire, and made Struensee fear that perhaps the King was not quite so imbecile as he looked. One day Christian, who wished for nothing but to amuse himself, had been worried to sign commissions appointing several new conference councillors, creatures of Struensee, who had little or no qualification for their posts. The King that evening at dinner kicked his favourite dog “Gourmand,” who was lying at his feet, and asked, “Can you bark?” and when the dog began yelping, the King said, “As you can bark, you shall be a conference councillor too”. He thereupon rose and proposed the health of “Councillor Gourmand,” to which all present had to drink. He also gave the dog a salary, which had to be paid regularly from the treasury. Struensee’s enemies regarded the incident as a bitter joke on the part of the King, and nicknamed the Minister “Gourmand”.

On another occasion when Christian had been forced to appoint a man, whom he disliked, a chamberlain, he revenged himself by making one of the palace menials a chamberlain too. The man, whose duty it was to light the stoves, came into the royal apartment just after Christian had been worried into signing the paper. “Hullo, my good fellow, would you like to be a chamberlain?” cried the King. The man grinned sheepishly, and, to humour his master, answered that he would not mind. “Very well,” said the King, “you shall be one: come with me.” He took the servant by the hand, and led him just as he was, in his yellow blouse, into the great hall, where the Queen, Struensee and all the court were assembled, walked him to the middle of the room, and shouted in a loud voice: “I appoint this man my chamberlain”. As the theory that the King was absolute had to be kept up at all hazards, the man became a chamberlain forthwith. Struensee, however, hit on a device next day for getting out of the difficulty, and bought the title back from the man for the price of a small farm some distance from the capital, whither he was despatched as soon as possible.

It was difficult to guard against these contretemps, for the King’s condition varied considerably; some days he was quite sane and lucid in his conversation, so that no one would imagine that there was anything the matter with him; on others he was to all intents and purposes a madman. But his keepers never knew when the mania would break out, and it sometimes showed itself at most inconvenient seasons. One day when the Queen was holding a levee (it having been announced that the King did not feel well enough to be present), the door suddenly opened, and the King, who had managed to evade the vigilance of Brandt, walked into the room, and waving his hand to the assembled court, peremptorily commanded silence. The conversation was at once hushed, and the Queen, pale and trembling, wondered what was coming next. The King, with great earnestness, recited The Warning Ode to Princes, by the famous poet, Klopstock, a poem peculiarly suitable under the circumstances. When it was finished, he again waved his hand to the company, burst into a laugh, and walked out of the room. It was probably after this incident that Gunning wrote:—

“I am very sorry to communicate so disagreeable an article of news as that alarming reports have been circulated on the subject of his Danish Majesty’s health. Notwithstanding infinite pains have been taken to conceal or explain away some very unpromising symptoms, I am apprehensive they have but too much foundation.”[161]

The court had by this time returned to Copenhagen and taken up residence at the Christiansborg Palace. Struensee now strove in every way to win popularity for his administration. He was a great believer in panem et circenses, and in pursuance of this policy seized upon the King’s birthday (January 29, 1771) as an opportunity for bribing the populace. The celebrations rivalled in magnificence those of the coronation, and were also intended to dispel the idea that the King was ignored in his own court. A fountain was erected in the palace yard whence flowed red and white wine, and all who would were allowed to drink from it the King’s health. Sheep and oxen were roasted whole, and distributed to the crowd; gold and silver medals were struck, and money thrown to the people. The King and Queen looked down upon the scene from a balcony, while the galleries which ran round the quadrangle were crowded with spectators.

The King’s birthday was also made the occasion of glorifying the reigning Queen, and of rewarding her adherents. Struensee gave Matilda all the semblance of power, and himself grasped the substance. In order to identify the young Queen with the revolutionary changes that had recently taken place, and impressing upon the nation the prominent position which she now held in the councils of the state, a new order was established, which was called the Order of Matilda. The Queen was founder of the order, and the statutes were as follows:—

• “I. The order shall be called the Order of Matilda.
• “II. It shall be conferred on both women and men. The number shall never exceed twenty-four, the Queen, its founder, included.
• “III. It shall only be conferred on those persons who deserve particular attention of the Queen, independently of merit or services rendered.
• “IV. It is forbidden to ask for the order, and those who act contrary to this rule will deprive themselves for ever of the hope of obtaining it.
• “V. Those women or men who, on receiving the Order of Matilda, already possess the ‘Order of the Perfect Union’ of the late Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, shall deliver the insignia of the latter to the Queen.
• “VI. The order shall be worn with a pink ribbon striped with silver. The men shall wear it round the neck, and the ladies fasten it in the shape of a bow on the left breast.
• “VII. On the death of any person decorated with the Order of Matilda, the heirs are expected to return the insignia to the Queen.”

The badge of the order was a medallion with the letters “C. M.” set in diamonds, with a royal crown over it and a laurel wreath round it. The Queen was pleased to confer it on the King, the Queen-Dowager, and Prince Frederick. The others to whom it was given on the day of its institution were Struensee, Rantzau, Osten, Brandt, General and Madame Gahler, Madame de Plessen, who still lived at Celle, and Baroness Schimmelmann, and Countess Holstein, the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. The Queen only decorated those who were her avowed supporters, and the establishment of this order gave her the opportunity of honouring them in a special and personal manner. But Struensee’s enemies declared that he had invented the order for his own special benefit, inasmuch as he despised the Order of the Dannebrog, and did not yet dare to take for himself the Order of the Elephant—the highest order in Denmark. This, however, was a malicious invention, for Struensee could have had any order and title he wished, and if he did not take them all at once, it was because he liked to prolong the pleasure of anticipation.

The court remained at Christiansborg throughout the winter, and Brandt, who was now established as a sort of master of the revels, had the arrangement of all the festivities. His first step was to alter and redecorate the royal theatre in Copenhagen at great cost, and arrange a series of operas. For the first time in Denmark, since the Reformation, performances were given on Sunday, and Sunday came to be regarded as the gala night at the opera, when the King and Queen would attend. This gave fresh offence to the puritan party in Copenhagen. The rearranging of the royal theatre was used as an occasion for offering a further slight to the Queen-Dowager and her son. They had hitherto been accustomed to share the King’s box, but now they were allotted one of their own. The Queen-Dowager rarely attended operas, but Prince Frederick did, and the excuse put forward was that there was no room for the Prince in the royal box; but when, after protest, he yielded the point, Struensee and Brandt appeared in the box, and seated themselves immediately behind the King and Queen.

Struensee turned his attention to the court, and soon the new brooms were busily sweeping out this Augean stable of privilege and corruption. The expenditure of the court was carefully revised, a great many useless offices, chiefly held by the younger sons of the nobility, were abolished, and pensions and salaries greatly reduced. The King of Denmark was burdened with a great number of costly palaces, which were always in need of repair. None of these palaces was closed, but the embellishment of them, which was always going on, was commanded to cease. By order of the late King Frederick V. the building of a marble church, to be named after him Frederiks-Kirke, had been begun in Copenhagen, after magnificent designs by Jardin, the French architect. The building of this church, which had now been going on for twenty years at enormous cost, crippled the treasury. Struensee, who considered the building of churches as useless waste, put a stop to the works, and broke the contracts with the builders. The church remained half-finished.[162] This occasioned much discontent; the contractors declared that they were ruined, the architect was loud in his complaints, artists protested against the vandalism of abandoning so magnificent an undertaking, and the clergy were scandalised that the house of the Lord should be left in this condition while large sums were squandered upon masquerades and play-houses. It is true that Struensee’s changes in the court did not effect much economy, for the perpetual round of entertainments and festivities organised by Brandt more than ate up anything that might be saved in another direction.

To bring money into the depleted treasury, Struensee established a royal Danish lottery, and it became a most profitable institution, not only to the court but to the Government. Its establishment was regarded by many as state encouragement of gambling, which would not fail to bring ruin upon thousands; but protest was unavailing, for a mania for gambling seized the citizens of Copenhagen and the people in the provinces, and nothing was talked of but the lottery, to the hindrance of regular and honest occupation. Struensee’s defence to his critics was that he did not establish gambling, which already existed in Denmark; he merely sought to regulate it, and turn the craze to the benefit of the state. In this, as in many other things, he was imitating Catherine the Great, who raised money in the same way.

Struensee closed his programme of court reform by what was in effect an indirect attack upon the army, though it was really aimed at the nobility. He abolished by royal decree the two squadrons of Household Cavalry or King’s Bodyguard, who, composed of picked handsome men, were the flower of the Danish army. Struensee considered them to be useless, and justified their abolition on the ground of economy; but it was said that a personal grievance had something to do with it. The officers of the Household Cavalry were all men of noble birth, and had the right of coming to court when they liked. Many of them held ornamental posts which Struensee had swept away. Naturally the officers did not view these reforms with favour, and they revenged themselves by making slighting remarks about the mixed company which now formed the court circle, and ridiculing the more prominent members of it, including the favourite himself. Struensee stopped this annoyance by abolishing the Household Cavalry by a stroke of his pen, and gave directions that the officers, who could not at once be attached to other cavalry regiments, were to be placed on half-pay; but the non-commissioned officers and privates received no compensation beyond the option of joining the Foot Guards, whom they looked down upon and despised.

A terrific uproar followed the promulgation of this order. The army declared that it was an attack on the King’s majesty and prestige, he could not be properly guarded without his cavalry. The protests of the nobles, the clergy, the lawyers, the magistracy had been nothing to this. The officers at whom Struensee really aimed belonged of course to a class, but the troopers were from the people, whom he desired to conciliate. They were very popular among the citizens of Copenhagen, who were proud of them. Even the Queen was frightened at the din, and feared that in this measure Struensee had gone too far. Some of her fear must have communicated itself to him; for when the Horse Guards were returning to their barracks from the parade, where the King’s order had been read to them, Struensee, who was driving, met them face to face. The aspect of the soldiers and the populace was so threatening that, believing a mutiny to be imminent, he fled back to the palace and hastily summoned the heads of the war department—Gahler, Rantzau and Falckenskjold. The result was a complete capitulation so far as the rank and file were concerned. A cabinet order was issued declaring that the disbandment of the Household Cavalry was only a prelude to the establishment of a model corps which was to be called “The Flying Bodyguard”. This corps was to be composed of the non-commissioned officers and men of the two squadrons disbanded, and picked men from other cavalry regiments. Struensee declared that his only object was to provide really efficient cavalry, and this he had intended all the time. Now that the danger had passed he sought to conceal that it was a concession forced from him by fear. But the rumour of his panic spread about the city, and it was even said that he had been frightened into offering his resignation. The rumour was not generally believed, for it was thought incredible that a man who had shown himself so daring and indomitable should thus show signs of weakness.

Struensee recognised that, from the popularity point of view, he had made a false move, and sought to retrieve it by popularising the court. Everything now was done for the masses and nothing for the classes. When, in 1771, spring came (and it comes with a rush in Denmark) the beautiful gardens of the Rosenborg[163] Castle in Copenhagen, and the park and gardens of Frederiksberg, outside the walls of the city, were thrown open to the people, and on Sundays and holidays military bands performed for their benefit. The King and Queen frequently honoured the concerts with their presence. They would dine in the palace, and then mingle freely with the crowd in the gardens, which was composed of all classes. The grounds of the Rosenborg were especially beautiful and varied, with shady groves and shrubberies. Often of an evening the gardens were illuminated with coloured lamps, and refreshment buffets were erected. Struensee gave permission to the proprietor of the buffets to open a faro-bank which was much frequented, and the rent paid for the tables was given to the foundling hospital. Catherine the Great had done the same thing at St. Petersburg. The clergy again cursed Struensee from their pulpits; they declared that he turned the King’s gardens into haunts of libertinism, gambling and drunkenness, and the shady groves and dark alleys into scenes of iniquity. These charges were greatly exaggerated and fell wide of the mark. Most of the amusement was quite innocent, and despite the anathema of the Church, the opening of the royal gardens was the most popular measure of Struensee’s administration.