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Chap. X.
DEATH OF FREDERIC VI.
145
not the pavement the most atrocious in all Copenhagen,
and the space around the statue of Frederic V., erected
to his honour by the merchants of the capital, too
confined, I know few of its size equal to it.
In the year 1839 a silent and saddened multitude
stood breathless and anxious before the windows of the
palace where Frederic VI. lay on his bed of agony.
He was much beloved, and a general feeling of sorrow
pervaded the whole population, who awaited with
anxiety the termination of his sufferings. Suddenly the
window is unclosed, the grand marshal appears on the
balcony, and, breaking asunder his rod of office,
exclaims, “ Le Boi est mort, vive le Boi.” Alas for the
feebleness of human sentiments! The Prince
Hereditary, now Christian VIII., inhabited the palace which
stands on the opposite side of the octagon; volte face
turned the assembled crowd, and huzzas and cries of joy
and enthusiasm greeted the accession of the new
monarch to the throne.
And now on to the Langa Linea, passing by the
splendid hospital of Frederic V., the gate surmounted
by the royal crown and cipher, on which the sparrows
hold their court in large numbers, squabbling and
fighting for place and precedence like their betters. One
part of this hospital is set aside for the higher classes,
who can there obtain rooms for a reasonable sum, and are
admirably attended, without deranging their own
establishments, or, in case of infectious disorders,
spreading death and disease among their families and domestics.
Leaving the villanous pavement, and crossing the
quincunx of trees, we arrive at the Langa Linea, one of the
prettiest promenades possessed by any capital of Europe:
so fresh is the air, so bright and exhilarating the scene
vol. i. L
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