drive them back. The sailors laid their hands on their knives, and declared they would defend themselves if the soldiers attacked them. Fortunately, some firmer and wiser gentlemen represented that the men did not look like insurrectionists, and that by signifying to them from the king through a naval aide-de-camp that they must return and justice would be dealt them, an odious and sanguinary scene, perhaps a real sedition, would be avoided. On the pledge of the aide-de-camp the sailors went back to Copenhagen as peacefully as they had come, and the court returned to the summer residence. Still, the alarm the sailors had caused lasted all night, because everybody felt persuaded that they would return furious and better armed.

The queen ordered that her horses should be kept in readiness; she went to bed bare-headed and in disorder, had her riding-habit laid in readiness by her side, and a moment after rose hurriedly to have her jewellery packed up. She also requested a colonel, in whom she placed confidence, to sleep at the palace. The dragoons, however, who patrolled all night, discovered nothing, and so the court became calm, and did their best to hide the fright they had suffered.

Struensee gave way; the sailors on their arrival in Copenhagen were treated with spirits, and temporarily appeased by a payment on account, while the whole arrears were paid up a few days later. The chief of the naval division, however, to which they belonged, Herr von Rumohr, was dismissed the service, on the charge of not having attempted to quell the tumult.

The bad example which the Norwegian sailors had given, and the fact that they were not punished for it, soon induced other men to bring forward less just claims in a similar way. A fortnight later, some one hundred and twenty silk weavers proceeded from Copenhagen to Hirschholm to complain that they were starving, because the royal silk factories had been closed. This request was also taken into consideration by the alarmed court, and an order was issued to continue the work in the factories till the men obtained other employment. As these demonstrations, however, raised apprehension of others, from this time guards were posted round the palace, the manège, and the palace gardens, by Falckenskjold's advice, which naturally led to many bitter comments.

But the greatest fear was entertained at court about the dockyard-men, who were known to be still angry at their exclusion from the king's birthday rejoicings, and the loss of their perquisites. In addition to the sailors obtained expressly from Norway, there were generally five thousand more in Copenhagen, divided into five detachments, of ten companies each; some were intended to man the ships, while others were employed as carpenters, caulkers, and labourers of every description in the navy dockyards. These men were also dissatisfied with the new regulations introduced in the yards, as in every other department, and it was consequently resolved to give them a "festival of reconciliation," for which September 29 was selected. When the day arrived, all the dockyard-men went in procession, with their wives and children, to the riding-school of Frederiksberg Palace, where they were to be regaled in the open air. Of course a roast ox again formed the staple dish; but as it was not sufficient to fill all the empty stomachs, six sheep, twelve pigs, and an infinity of geese, ducks, and fowls, were also roasted and distributed. To wash this food down, upwards of thirty tuns of beer, and a quart of rum per man, were distributed. Any one who liked to smoke received a charged pipe, and all were paid their wages as for an ordinary working-day. Dancing and music concluded the festival.

Struensee, in his abject terror, had not duly reflected how uncertain is the permanent effect of popular demonstrations, or to what remarks they give rise. But the mistake led to even more ugly consequences. It had not only been announced that the court would be present at the festival, but the diplomatic corps, and all the dignitaries of the state, had been invited as well. Fifty men of the flying corps of guards were to form the king's escort, and had been told off, when a rumour reached the court that a design on the favourite's life would be carried out at the feast of the roast ox. In the terrible confusion which this rumour caused at Hirschholm, the advice of the experienced Falckenskjold was demanded. Struensee was afraid of being murdered, and said in Brandt's presence to Falckenskjold, that the fate of Concini might be hanging over him. The colonel advised him to mix among the populace at the festival, and display an undaunted demeanour, but took advantage of the opportunity to urge him to be more cautious, and not to arouse his enemies further. He told him that the dissatisfaction with his government was now extending to his friends, and reminded him of the fate of Counts Corfix Ulfeld and Griffenfeldt, whom the court had been compelled to sacrifice to their enemies.

"Such is the fate," Struensee's best friend concluded his far-sighted warnings, "by which you are also threatened, and, if they can, they will drag you to the scaffold. So, at any rate, take care that your papers are in order."

"My papers are arranged," Struensee coldly answered him; "from that side I have nothing to fear, if they will only behave fairly in other respects."

Brandt joined in Falckenskjold's warnings, and urged Struensee not to be so obstinate, but to give way, and yield to circumstances.

"No!" Struensee answered him, with considerable violence; "no! I will give up nothing of what, according to my conviction, promotes the welfare of the state."

"The time will come," Brandt said, prophetically, "when we shall be compelled to give way."

Struensee retired silently to his cabinet. But, a few minutes after, Falckenskjold received a note from him, in which he asked whether he could be present at the festival without risk. Falckenskjold answered him, that he was able to stay away if he felt afraid.[5]

Neither Struensee nor their Majesties appeared at the festival of the roast ox: the preparations for their reception proved a farce. The proceedings passed off tranquilly, with the exception that some of the sailors remarked that it was not the ox that had been promised them—in allusion to Struensee's corpulence. The citizens were very much annoyed at not having been shown their king, whom they were growing accustomed to talk about as an automaton. They were even more indignant when they learned that fear had retained their Majesties at Hirschholm, and this distrust with which the king was inspired against his subjects was a fresh crime with which the favourites were accused. But though it is certain that the king had nothing to fear, it is equally certain that he had not been inspired either with fear or distrust; in the whole affair he was passive and indifferent.[6]

There can be little doubt but that Struensee was quite right in staying away from the festival of September 29, for there was a regular conspiracy; it was formed under the auspices of Juliana Maria, and managed by the head man of the caulkers, Captain Winterfeldt, who was eventually rewarded for his good will. In 1774, Baron von Bülow gave Mr. Wraxall a detailed account of the plot to murder Struensee and his partisans on this occasion.

The favourites were not at all reassured