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248
ODENSE.
Chap. XLVII.
Adela, his widowed queen, wanted, on her
retirement from Denmark, to carry off these precious
relics to Flanders. Had she persisted in the execution
of her whim, she would have met with the same fate as
the saint himself. Deprive Odense of her “ apothek ”
and head doctor! Furious, the inhabitants resented
the idea. “Did he not cure every disease? A most
skilful oculist, he restored sight to the blind! For
rheumatics, he had no equal! and for the purification
of the blood, never talk of ‘ la moutarde blanche,’ when
St. Knud is to be got at! ” Though a saint, he had
his spécialité, and particularly prided himself on his
success in all cutaneous disorders.
So Queen Adela, who had no particular fancy for
being poked with a javelin, retired to Flanders, and left
St. Knud to the adoration of the multitude.
His church is a fine building of exquisite proportions,
spoiled by the modern fittings and loggie of the last
centuries, used by the monarch and the heir-apparent
(who generally held the post of governor of Funen), as
well as by their guests; for Odense has had a world
of fine company in her days of splendour. Our own
George I., among the number, in the old Electress’s
lifetime paid a visit to Denmark, to Christian V.—came
to see his old aunt the dowager queen—always kind
to the Palsgrave family. But Odense is out of fashion
now; her palace untenanted. Next on our list of royal
folks appears Erik Lam; he turned monk. I’ve no
patience with your “ rois fainéans ” who turn religious
to get out of this world’s troubles. It is not religion
at all—all sneaking, nothing more nor less.
Then comes King John, whose splendid sepulchral
slab, removed from the extinct church of the Gray
Friars, lies imbedded in the wall—a fine specimen of its
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