REFUGE AT CELLE.

1772-1774.

The English squadron arrived at Stade, a seaport town on the mouth of the Elbe, then in the electorate of Hanover, on June 5. Matilda was received with all the honour due to her rank as Queen of Denmark and Princess of Great Britain. Two highly placed Hanoverian officials rowed out to the flagship, and formally welcomed her to her brother’s dominions. The Queen landed shortly afterwards from a royal barge. Here the Hanoverian ladies and gentlemen who were to form her new household awaited her, and here her small Danish suite took their leave, preparatory to returning to Copenhagen by land. The Queen gave Count Holstein a diamond solitaire and similar souvenirs to the others. She also recommended Captain Macbride and the other officers for promotion through the envoy.[73] A large crowd had assembled to witness the Queen disembark, by whom she was greeted with great enthusiasm. There was a very general idea that she had been hardly used, and her brother’s Hanoverians were enthusiastic in her defence. The Queen was treated with honour: she was lodged in the principal house at Stade, and attended by her suite, which was composed of the Dowager Baroness d’Ompteda, chief lady of her court, two other ladies-in-waiting, two chamberlains, three pages and a number of servants. Sir Robert Keith acted as minister in attendance.

The Queen remained at Stade two days, and then travelled by way of Harburg to GÖhrde, a distance of thirty miles, where she was to remain until the castle of Celle was ready for her reception. GÖhrde had formerly been a hunting-box of the Dukes of Celle. It was a long, low, unpretending house of brick and timber, and the accommodation was so limited that most of the suite had to be lodged in cottages hard by. GÖhrde was situated in the midst of a forest, far removed from any town, and the Queen was more separated from the outer world there than she had been at Kronborg.[74] At GÖhrde Sir Robert Keith took leave of the Queen, who parted from him with many expressions of gratitude and good-will. He went, in accordance with his instructions, to England, to give the King a full and particular account of the late revolution in Denmark, and to say all that he could in the Queen’s favour.

Matilda remained at GÖhrde throughout the summer, and the quiet did much to refresh her weary mind after the exciting scenes she had gone through. In her loneliness the Queen turned to the consolations of religion; the pastor of LÜneburg often visited her, and once a week conducted divine service for her and the household. In August Matilda received a visit from her sister Augusta, Hereditary Princess of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel, who came with her husband, and stayed four days. Matilda was overjoyed to see her sister again. They had not met since the days of their youth in England, but they had corresponded regularly. Through good report and evil the Princess of Brunswick had stood by her young sister, and she now determined to see as much as possible of her in the future, which would be comparatively easy, as Brunswick was only a few hours’ journey from Celle. She had nothing but sympathy for Matilda, and indignation at her wrongs. Together, no doubt, they went over the whole miserable story of the unhappy marriage in Denmark; here, too, they probably recalled the memories of their childhood in England. The Princess of Brunswick, who had lately come from London, also gave her sister much information concerning George III. and Queen Charlotte, which enabled her to understand better the state of affairs at the English court. The Prince of Brunswick, gallant soldier that he was, also championed the cause of his young sister-in-law, and his visit to her at this time was a proof to all the world that he believed her to be an injured woman. His visit was the more significant from the fact that he was a nephew of Matilda’s greatest enemy, Juliana Maria, who was by birth a princess of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel. The Princess of Brunswick and her husband did not always get on very happily together, for the Princess resented her husband’s many amours. Their visit to GÖhrde, therefore, was regarded not only as evidence of their friendship for the unfortunate Queen, but as proof that harmony was restored between them.

Though the preparations at Celle were pushed forward with all speed, it was late in October before everything was ready in the castle for the Queen’s reception. The honest townsfolk of Celle were prepared to give their King’s sister the heartiest of welcomes. There had been no court at the castle for nearly seventy years, and they were proud that its ancient glories were to be in part revived; moreover, they sympathised with the sorrows of the young Queen, were indignant at her wrongs, and firmly believed her to be the innocent victim of a court plot. When, therefore, after four months’ residence at GÖhrde, Matilda fixed October 20 for her entry to Celle, the magistrates and burgesses determined to give her a right royal reception. A public holiday was proclaimed; the streets of the quaint little town, which contain some fine specimens of north German architecture, were gaily decorated, and odes of welcome, both in prose and verse, were prepared. Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Queen Charlotte’s brother, and commandant of the garrison, heartily supported the efforts of the townspeople, and for weeks nothing was talked of but the entry of Queen Matilda.[75]

The day of October 20 dawned beautifully fine. The town was bright with the sunshine of late autumn; the royal standard floated proudly on the castle tower, and soldiers paraded the streets. There was such an influx of visitors to Celle from the surrounding villages that every house was filled to overflowing, and there was no more accommodation to be had at the inns. At an early hour the townsfolk assembled under arms at the headquarters of the local militia. Each citizen wore red and white ribbons in his hat, and a rosette of the same in his buttonhole. A procession was formed, and headed by the chief officials, the “Four Men,” the townsfolk, with banners flying and music playing, marched to the market-place. Here, after refreshing themselves and generally making merry, they proceeded to line the route to the castle. At the west gate of the town twenty-eight of the most notable burgesses, “clad in blue velveteen and mounted on horses magnificently caparisoned,” awaited the arrival of the Queen, and then, since her coming was delayed, they marched out about a quarter of a mile from the town to meet her. After they had waited a long time, a courier dashed up and informed them that her Majesty was approaching. A few minutes later the Queen’s coach came in sight, followed by the other coaches containing her suite. One of the chief merchants, deputed by the rest, then rode towards the royal carriage, and when the Queen commanded a halt, he offered her on bended knee the following greeting:—

—and so on for many verses. The Queen received the address most graciously. Then the escort of burgesses formed up, and the procession moved towards the western gate. The Queen’s coach was drawn by six horses from the royal stables at Celle, ridden by postilions in liveries of scarlet and gold. An escort of cavalry formed the rear of the procession. At the west gate the Queen again halted, and WÜrning, the senior of the “Four Men,” read to the Queen an ode written on white satin, beginning:—

The Queen again signified her liveliest satisfaction, and when the reading of the ode was over, she passed through the gates, and a flourish of trumpets announced her Majesty’s entry into the town. From this point the procession could only make its way slowly, for although the route was lined with burgesses, and the Queen’s coach was escorted by cavalry, the people pressed through and surrounded the carriage, all anxious to get a view of the Queen. “Nor would she have any turned away, but bowed and smiled from side to side without intermission, and showed in the most unmistakable manner her lively satisfaction and pleasure.” Indeed, the Queen is said to have exclaimed with joyful gratitude: “Thank God! my brother’s subjects do not believe me guilty.” Slowly Matilda made her way past the town hall, where the members of the corporation were drawn up and the commandant of the town had stationed his regiment, towards the castle. She passed over the drawbridge, and a second later entered her new home. She was received at the main entrance by Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, who conducted her up the grand staircase to her apartments.

The Queen rested a while, and took some refreshment; but after supper, seeing that the town was illuminated in her honour, she announced her intention of going out to view the illuminations, and accompanied by her suite, she made a tour of the streets on foot, commenting with unaffected delight at the devices on the houses. It was ten o’clock before the Queen returned to the castle, tired out with the pleasant excitements of the day. She declared that it did her heart good to come among so kind and devoted a people, who had striven to outvie one another in rendering her honour. Of a truth, after the harshness and averted looks she had encountered everywhere in Denmark the last two years, the warm-hearted greeting must have come as a balm to the youthful Queen. From that hour she took the townsfolk of Celle to her heart, and they took her to theirs. Even to this day the traditions of her goodness and amiability linger in the little town.

George III. handsomely supplemented his sister’s allowance from Denmark, and though her means did not allow of magnificence or display, she had amply sufficient for her needs, in the quiet and secluded life which her brother wished her to lead. Matilda was royally lodged in the castle of Celle, and had no reason to complain of her quarters. The castle was at that time strongly fortified and surrounded by a moat, which perhaps gave rise to the absurd report, circulated in England, that she was a prisoner in a few small rooms of a gloomy fortress. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I was last at Celle in 1902, and visited the castle especially to see the apartments occupied by the Queen of Denmark. The following notes written at the time may be of interest:—

The castle of Celle is a huge building, partly in late Gothic and partly in the Renaissance style. It is built round a quadrangle, and the apartments used by Queen Matilda occupy the whole of the south side. The largest room is a long gallery, where her household and guests were wont to assemble. This gallery is a long, low, handsome room, hung with pictures on one wall, and pierced by many windows on another. At one end of the gallery is the dining-room, at the other the Queen’s favourite sitting-room or boudoir. This is an octagon-shaped room in the south-west tower of the castle, and lighted by four large windows overlooking the beautiful schloss garden, and giving a glimpse through the trees of the silvery Aller. The walls of this room are lined with a sort of canvas, on which are painted bright birds of paradise and flowers. The castellan declared that the wall-covering and hangings were unchanged since the Queen’s day, and were put up by order of George III. for his sister. Before 1866 Matilda’s apartments were used by the Queen of Hanover; they are now occupied by the Regent of Brunswick on his rare visits to Celle. The octagon room leads to the Queen’s bedroom, a large apartment with walls lined with the same material, on which are painted bright flowers. The windows look over some noble beech-trees. From this a few wooden steps lead down to the garde-robe (dressing-room), and following the winding staircase down, we are confronted by a stout door. Opening this, we emerge directly on the western, or royal, gallery of the beautiful little chapel. In this gallery is the closed pew wherein Matilda used to sit during divine service—a pew not unlike an opera-box, cushioned and carpeted, and with diamond-paned glass windows. At the back is a fresco representing the denial of Christ by Peter. The pew directly faced the altar, and from it Matilda must often have gazed at the beautiful triptych painted by Martin Vos of Antwerp. The centre panel represents the Crucifixion, and George William, the last Duke of Celle, and his wife, ElÉonore d’Olbreuse (not very saintly personages by the way), are painted in the wings of the triptych, kneeling on either side of the central panel in attitudes of adoration. Sometimes, to hear the preacher better, Matilda moved round to the south gallery, immediately facing the pulpit, where she also occupied a lattice-windowed pew. Here, on one of the panes, local tradition has it that she wrote with a diamond the following words in German: “The fear of God is over all things, and will guide me both in the present and in the future.” The writing may still be seen, scratched on the pane, but, unfortunately for the legend, it bears no resemblance to the well-known writing of the Queen, though it is always shown as hers.[76]

A few days after Queen Matilda arrived at Celle she received a visit from Keith, who had spent the summer in England. After reaching London and reporting himself at the foreign office, Keith was commanded to the palace, where the Sovereign gave him audience. He was about to kneel when George III. took him by both his hands, and said: “No, no, Keith; it is not thus we receive our friends,” and then expressed to him in the warmest terms his satisfaction at the way in which he had exerted himself on Queen Matilda’s behalf. He soon received well-deserved promotion from the King, who appointed him ambassador at Vienna, a post formerly filled by his father. Keith was now on his way to take up his duties at Vienna. In conformance with instructions, he travelled round by way of Celle to see the Queen in her new home, and report concerning her to the King.

Before Keith left England Lord Suffolk wrote him a private letter in which he said: “You cannot be too minute and ample on all points of your mission to Zell. A thousand little circumstances which would of course be passed over on other occasions will be interesting upon this, and I think I may venture to assure you that the more conformable your accounts are to this hint the better they will please.”[77]

This goes to show that George III., who had been reproached with indifference to his sister, now took a particular interest in her welfare, and was anxious to do everything to make her situation as comfortable and happy as circumstances admitted. This is further borne out in the letter which Keith wrote to Lord Suffolk, which gives so authentic and particular account of the Queen at Celle that it is worth quoting in full:—

“Celle, November 2, 1772.

“My Lord,

“I arrived here on October 31, late in the evening, and next day had the honour of delivering the King’s letter to her Danish Majesty, whom I found in perfect health, and without any remains of pain from her late accident. In two very long audiences, which her Majesty was pleased to grant me, I endeavoured to execute with the utmost punctuality his Majesty’s command, and shall now lay before your Lordship all the lights those audiences afforded me, relative to the Queen’s wishes and intentions. I cannot enter upon that subject without previously assuring your Lordship that the Queen received those repeated proofs of his Majesty’s fraternal affection and friendship, which my order contained, with the warmest expressions of gratitude and sensibility, and that nothing could be more frank and explicit than her answers to a great number of questions, which she permitted me to ask upon any subject that arose.

“In regard to Denmark, the Queen declares that, in the present situation of that court, she has not a wish for any correspondence or connection there, beyond what immediately concerns the welfare and education of her children. That she never has written a single letter to Denmark since she left it, or received one from thence. That the only person belonging to that kingdom from whom she hears lives in Holstein, and is not connected with the court.[78]

“The Queen having expressed great anxiety with respect to the false impressions which may be instilled into the minds of her children, particularly regarding herself, I thought it my duty to say that such impressions, however cruelly intended, could not, at the tender age of her Majesty’s children, nor for some years to come, take so deep a root as not to be entirely effaced by more candid instructors, and the dictates of filial duty, when reason and reflection shall break in upon their minds. The Queen seemed willing to lay hold of that hope, yet could not help bursting into tears when she mentioned the danger of losing the affections of her children.

“Her Majesty appears very desirous to communicate directly to her royal brother all her views and wishes in the most confidential manner; hoping to obtain in return his Majesty’s advice and directions, which she intends implicitly to follow. She said that in matters of so private and domestic a nature, it would give her much greater pleasure to learn his Majesty’s intentions upon every point from his own pen, than through the channel of any of his electoral servants.

“It gave me great satisfaction to find her Majesty in very good spirits, and so much pleased with the palace at Zell, the apartments of which are very spacious and handsomely furnished. She wishes to have an apartment fitted up in the palace for her sister, the Princess of Brunswick, as she thinks that the etiquette of this country does not permit that Princess, in her visits to Zell, to be lodged out of the palace, without great impropriety. Her Majesty said that she intended to write herself to the King on this head.

“The Queen told me that the very enterprising and dangerous part which Queen Juliana has acted in Denmark had created greater astonishment in Brunswick (where the abilities and character of that Princess are known) than, perhaps, in any other city of Europe.

“Her Majesty talked to me of several late incidents at the court of Denmark, but without appearing to take much concern in them. She mentioned, with a smile, some of the paltry things which had been sent as a part of her baggage from Denmark, adding, that this new instance of their meanness had not surprised her. But the Princess of Brunswick, who happened to be present when the baggage was opened, expressed her indignation at that treatment in such strong terms, that she (the Queen) could not help taking notice of it in her letters to the King.

“She made me understand that a small collection of English books would be very agreeable to her; leaving the choice of them entirely to the King.

“Her Majesty more than once expressed how much she considered herself obliged to the King’s ministers for the zeal they had shown in the whole of the late unhappy transactions relating to Denmark and to herself. She is particularly sensible of the great share your Lordship had in all those affairs; and has commanded me to convey to your Lordship her acknowledgments for that constant attention to her honour and interests, which she is persuaded the King will look upon as an additional mark of your Lordship’s dutiful attachment to his royal person and family.

“It only remains that I should beg your forgiveness for the great length to which I have swelled this letter. The only excuse I can offer arises from my ardent desire to execute the King’s orders with the utmost possible precision.

“I am, etc., etc.,

“R. M. Keith.”[79]

Keith remained at Celle only a few days. Then he took leave of the Queen whose cause he had championed so doughtily, and proceeded to Vienna. He never saw her again.[80]

George III. tried in every way to shield his sister’s reputation, and to prevent any details of the scandal reaching England. “The King of England,” wrote Suffolk some months after the Queen’s arrival at Celle, “has repeatedly received assurances that no part of those proceedings which affected the Queen of Denmark should ever be made public.”[81] Woodford, who had succeeded Keith at Copenhagen as Minister-Resident, received strict orders to do all in his power to prevent the dissemination of scandalous publications. There were a great many. The year of the Queen’s arrival at Celle, Woodford writes to England of “a most injurious libel,” in manuscript, being circulated against the Queen, and suspects it is a piece of malice on the part of Count Rantzau.[82] Again, he writes of the circulation of a paper containing the “most detestable part of Struensee’s deposition”.[83] A whole case of these papers was seized at the Custom House, and owing to the protests of the English minister, Count Osten ordered all copies to be suppressed and the sale forbidden under heavy penalties. Woodford later had a conversation with Count Andreas Bernstorff[84] (who had succeeded Osten at the Foreign Office) on the subject, and reported: “The Danish Minister said it could never be forgotten that the Queen of Denmark was mother of the Prince Royal, the King’s sister, and a daughter of England, which were too important considerations not to engage him to be vigilant and active against everything that could in the most distant manner reflect upon the late melancholy and unfortunate transaction.”[85]

Queen Matilda was exceedingly touched by the way in which she was received by the townsfolk of Celle, and as the days went by she more than confirmed the first impressions they had formed of her, and won the affection of all the inhabitants from the highest to the lowest. Celle now, as then, is a quiet little town, with quaint old houses and irregular streets, and no description could convey a complete idea of its homelike charm. The houses are not built with the magnificence of those of LÜbeck or Brunswick, whose style they resemble, but on a more modest scale. Most of the old houses date from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, with high-pitched, red-tiled roofs, and with huge wooden beams built into the walls, and the intervening spaces filled up with brickwork or clay. Here a window, there a doorway or gable-end, calls up the glamour of the past. The outside walls of the old houses are often painted with figures, vines, grapes, oak-leaves, and so forth, while the beams, sills, ties and other woodwork are enriched with carvings showing quaint devices, or texts or mottoes—sometimes humorous and sometimes pious.[86]

The Queen walked almost daily about the town, generally attended by only one lady. She went freely in and out among the people, making purchases in the shops, visiting the poor and sick, comforting them with kind words and deeds, and taking a sympathetic interest in everything that concerned them. In her intercourse with the townsfolk of Celle she showed herself opposed to all pride and etiquette, and did her best to bridge over the gulf which separated the classes even more in the eighteenth century than to-day. It was known that she had her sorrows, but she never complained, and conducted herself with a gentle kindness which won all with whom she came into contact. She found great consolation in the society of her former friend, Madame de Plessen, who, soon after she had been banished from Copenhagen, took a house at Celle, and who now renewed her friendship with her young mistress. Matilda never rode, fond though she was of that exercise, and though horses in the royal stables were at her disposal. But she drove occasionally in the country around Celle, which was not very interesting, being for the most part a flat plain varied by clumps of birches, firs and patches of heather. Her farthest excursion was to Hanover, whither she went at long intervals on visits of some ceremony.[87]

The Queen’s favourite walk was in the French garden outside the town—so-called because it was planned out after the fashion Le NÔtre had set at Versailles. The paths ran in straight lines between avenues of lime-trees and clipped hedges, something after the manner of Herrenhausen, but smaller. The French garden was public to the town, and in her walks there Matilda made many friends. She often conversed with the townsfolk, walking there, with such affability that they were speedily put at their ease, and became convinced that the Queen’s friendliness was not feigned, but true and natural. She was especially fond of children, and rarely passed them without a kind word; almost every day the school children were able to tell their parents that the “good Queen,” as she was everywhere called, had talked to them. She often invited children to a little party at the castle, where all sorts of things were done to give them pleasure; sometimes she would go to the parents of quite poor children in the town and ask them to spare her their little ones for a few hours.

The Queen was never so happy as in the society of children, and her great grief was her forced separation from her own; she was never heard to regret the loss of her throne or the brilliant life of courts, but she frequently bewailed the loss of her children. Juliana Maria was determined to prevent every means of communication between the exiled Queen and her children, and for good reason. The secretary at the British Legation writes of her “apprehension” that the Crown Prince “might one day revenge the injurious treatment his royal mother had undergone”.[88] It was with much difficulty that Matilda at last obtained from Copenhagen a picture of her little son. She hung it in her bedroom, immediately facing her bed, and often gazed at it longingly. Once when she was repeating some verses to the picture, she was surprised by the Baroness d’Ompteda. The Queen repeated the lines, which she said she had altered to suit her sad case:—

The Queen often wept when she thought of her children, and this, indeed, was the only point on which she refused to be comforted. Maternal love was very strong in Matilda’s heart. She took into the castle a motherless little girl of four years old, named Sophie von Benningsen, so that she might give her a mother’s care and training.

To provide the Queen with some diversion the theatre in the castle was fitted up, and a company of players came from Hanover at regular intervals, and gave representations there. To these entertainments the Queen would invite the principal people in Celle, and she always attended, and occupied the ducal box—the same box from which her great-grandmother, Sophie Dorothea, had smiled across the courtiers to KÖnigsmarck a hundred years before. Great care was taken that there should be nothing in the plays which could even remotely resemble the Queen’s sad history; to this end comedies were always acted, and tragedies were forbidden. Nevertheless, once, when some children appeared on the stage, the Queen was overcome by emotion, and hurriedly left her box. It was a long time before she could recover her self-control, and she walked about the gardens, notwithstanding that the night was rough and windy, until she regained it. After this incident no more children figured in the plays at Celle.

One day of the Queen’s life at Celle very much resembled another, and in that it had no history it might be regarded as happy, though the shadow of sadness brooded over all. She rose early—between seven and eight—and, if the weather permitted, took a little walk in the gardens of the castle, or by the side of the Aller. Some mornings she would breakfast in the gardens, at others return to the castle. After breakfast she would dress herself for the day, and appear in her little circle for an hour. Then often she would go out again, either for a drive, or for a walk in the French garden, and come back to dinner at the castle about two o’clock. She dined with all her household, seated at the head of the table, and conversation was generally brisk and lively. After dinner she would retire to her own apartments, and read, or do some needlework, or play on the harpsichord, and sing to it, for she was an accomplished musician. Later, she would again go for a walk in the garden, if the weather was fine. Then she dressed for the evening, and joined the circle of her court at eight, when supper was served. To this meal guests were frequently invited from the town, such as Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz or Madame de Plessen, the colonel of the regiment, or some of the neighbouring nobility and gentry. After supper there would be music, or cards, or conversation in the long gallery; sometimes there was a performance in the theatre. At eleven the Queen would retire to her apartments, and the company broke up. She did not always retire to bed at once, for she was fond of astronomy, and on fine nights would repair to the tower of the castle, where there was a telescope, and gaze for a long time at the starry heavens; sometimes she would recite some poetry. Her favourite poem was a hymn of Gellert’s, which began:—

She was regular in her attendance at public worship; every Sunday found her in the chapel, attended by her household. The service, which was after the Lutheran ritual, was conducted by her chaplain, Pastor Lehzen. On rare occasions she attended the church in the town. Every now and then she gave little parties at the castle—on the occasion of her own birthday, or that of members of her suite. In a letter (July 24, 1773) to her chief lady, Baroness d’Ompteda, who was then absent for a few weeks, taking the waters of Prymont, the Queen wrote: “Madame de Plessen, having wished to celebrate my birthday, gave an illumination in the garden; but the wind was so strong that the bonfire would not burn, so she gave it yesterday evening, when the weather was more favourable. I was there, and went to see the illuminations, which were everywhere good. The whole of the town was illuminated.”[91] One or two more letters, of no particular importance, addressed by the Queen to the Baroness d’Ompteda, have been found. Some slight signs of weariness are evident. She laments that she is unable to send any news; “but you know Celle,” she writes, “and therefore will understand”.[92] Her life was undoubtedly monotonous, but it seems to have been fairly happy, and she enjoyed the visits of her sister, the Princess of Brunswick, who frequently posted over to Celle for a few days. These visits were the pleasantest distractions of Matilda’s life.

One John Moore, who was a travelling companion of the Duke of Hamilton, came with the Duke to Celle in the summer of 1773 on the way from Hanover, and afterwards published a volume of his travels, in which appears the following account:—[93]

“Before dinner I went with the Duke to the castle, where we remained till late in the evening. There was a concert of music between dinner and supper, and the Queen seemed in better spirits than could have been expected....

“The apartments are spacious and convenient, and now handsomely furnished. The entourage of the court—the Queen’s maids-of-honour and other attendants—have a very genteel appearance, and retain the most respectful attachment to their ill-fated mistress.

“The few days we remained at Zell were spent entirely at court, where everything seemed to be arranged in the style of the other small German courts, and nothing wanting to render the Queen’s situation as comfortable as circumstances would admit. But by far her greatest consolation is the company and conversation of her sister; some degree of satisfaction appears in her countenance while the Princess remains at Zell, but the moment she goes away, the Queen, as we are informed, becomes a prey to dejection and despondency. The Princess exerts herself to prevent this, and devotes to her sister all the time she can spare from the duties she owes to her own family. Unlike those who take the first pretext of breaking connections which can no longer be of advantage, this humane Princess has displayed even more attachment to her sister since her misfortunes than she ever did while the Queen was in the meridian of her prosperity.

“The youth, the agreeable countenance and obliging manners of the Queen have conciliated the minds of every one in this country. Though she was in perfect health and appeared cheerful, yet, convinced that her gaiety was assumed and the effect of a strong effort, I felt an impression of melancholy which it was not in my power to overcome all the time we remained at Zell.”

So matters remained at Celle for nearly two years, and then there came excitement into Matilda’s quiet life.

In September, 1774, a young Englishman, named Wraxall, of good Somersetshire family, arrived at Celle. Wraxall was an active, ambitious and enterprising youth, and the fact that he was not rich warned him that he must do something. He therefore resolved to win fame and money by authorship, and to this end set out to make a tour in northern Europe, then comparatively little known. He travelled through Denmark, Sweden and a little of Russia, and came back by way of north Germany to Hamburg. The recent events in Copenhagen (for they were then recent) had excited an extraordinary amount of interest in England, and Wraxall resolved to be the first to give a really full and particular account of what had happened there two years before. So he went to Copenhagen on a voyage of inquiry, and when he was there kept his eyes and ears well open, with the result that he gleaned a great many details of the palace revolution. On his return to Hamburg, as he was so near, he thought he would go to Celle, and pay his respects to the unfortunate heroine of the Danish revolution of 1772, and thus make his contemplated book more complete. To this end he travelled to Celle, and presented himself to Baron Seckendorf, the Queen’s chamberlain, and stated his wishes. Seckendorf submitted his name to the Queen, who, always accessible, said that it would give her pleasure to receive Mr. Wraxall, whom she understood to be a young Englishman of birth and education. The Princess of Brunswick, who was staying with her sister at the time, and who was above all things anxious to amuse her, also thought that the company of a travelled and agreeable Englishman would be a welcome diversion. Therefore Baron Seckendorf informed Wraxall that the Queen would receive him. He described the audience in his private journal:—

“Monday, September 19:—

“I went at half-past one to the castle of Zell. M^r Seckendorf introduced me to the Grande MaÎtresse of her Highness the Princess of Brunswick. The Princess herself entered in about a quarter of an hour; she gave me her hand to kiss, and began conversation with me directly. It was interrupted by the Queen’s entrance, to whom I was presented with the same ceremony. Her Majesty and the Princess kept me in constant talk before and after dinner. We talked of Denmark, of Prince Frederick, his intended marriage, etc. ‘He was a youth,’ said she [the Queen], ‘unknown while I was there.’ Hirschholm, she said, was her favourite palace. ‘But tell me,’ said the Princess, ‘about the Queen-Mother; she is my aunt, but no matter. Say what you will; you may be free. And for the King, how is he?’ I very frankly expressed my sentiments. The Queen asked me a thousand questions about the court of Russia, Sweden, my travels, etc. The Queen asked me also about her children, the Prince in particular; I told her how they dressed him now. I assured her I had been taken for a spy in Copenhagen.... Her Majesty was very gay, and seemed in no way a prey to melancholy; she was very fat for so young a woman. She asked me my age; I told her. ‘You are then,’ said she, ‘exactly as old as I am; we were born in the same year.’ Her features are pretty, and her teeth very small, even and white. She resembles his Majesty [George III.] infinitely in face, but the Princess said not so strongly as she. I don’t think so, and told her Royal Highness so; her Majesty appealed to one of her maids-of-honour, who agreed in opinion with me. The Queen was dressed in a BarrÉ-coloured gown, or at least an orange-red so very nearly resembling it that I could not distinguish the difference. I asked her how many languages she spoke. ‘Five,’ she said—‘Danish, English, French, German and Italian.’

“The Princess [of Brunswick] is much thinner in face, but not a great deal less in her person; she wants the Queen of Denmark’s teeth, but has a very good complexion. She talked to me about the Duchess of Glo’ster—if I had seen her, if I knew her. ‘She is a very fine woman,’ she added, ‘even now.’ Mrs. C ... was mentioned. ‘She was a prodigious favourite,’ I remarked, ‘of the Duke of York.’ She replied with a smile: ‘For the moment!’ She did me the honour to ask me to take Brunswick in my way next summer, or whenever I visited Germany again. She said she might and should have mistaken me for a Frenchman. ‘You don’t take that for a compliment, do you?’ the Queen observed. Indeed, no; I was too proud of my country. Macaronis formed a part of our conversation. ‘It is all over now,’ I said; ‘the word is quite extinct in England.’ ‘But tell me,’ said her Majesty, ‘tell me ingenuously, were you not a bit of a one while it lasted?’ I assured her not. I took my leave soon after dinner.

“Tuesday, September 20:—

“About ten o’clock I went to the HÔtel de Ville, where at this time the shops of the merchants who come to the fair of Zell are held. Her Majesty the Queen and her sister the Princess were there. I had the honour to talk with them nearly an hour; we conversed in English most familiarly on fifty subjects—the Grand Duke of Russia, the Empress, the peace between Russia and Turkey, my travels, Dantzig, formed the chief articles. I showed her Majesty my medals of the Empress of Russia and some other things. She was dressed quite À l’Anglaise—a white bonnet, a pale-pink night-gown a gauze handkerchief, with a little locket on her bosom. Her face is very handsome; they are his Majesty’s features, but all softened and harmonised. Pity she is so large in her person. The Princess was quite English all over—a black hat over her eyes and a common night-gown with a black apron.”

The next day Wraxall took his leave of Celle, well pleased with his visit, and proceeded to Hamburg, where he intended to take ship for England. But at Hamburg something happened which upset all his plans, and for a short time linked his fortunes closely with those of Queen Matilda.