THE TEMPTER.

1769-1770.

A single interview sufficed to break down the Queen’s prejudice against Struensee. His manner was so tactful and deferential; he seemed to be so grieved at her condition, and so anxious to serve her that before he withdrew she was convinced she had misjudged him. He was as skilful as he was sympathetic; the remedies he prescribed took effect almost immediately, and when the doctor again waited on his royal patient he found her better. Struensee’s visits were repeated daily, and as Matilda improved in health she was naturally grateful to the physician who wrought this change. She also became attracted by his tact and courtesy, so different from the treatment she met with from Holck and his party. She began to talk to the doctor on general subjects, and discovered that he was an extremely intelligent and well-read man. Struensee flattered himself that he had even more knowledge of the human heart—and especially of the heart of woman—than of medicine. He sought to amuse and distract the Queen, until she looked forward to his visits with pleasure, and every day gave him longer audience than before.

Struensee was one of those doctors who find out what their patients like to do, and then advise them to do it, and after several conversations with the Queen, he arrived at most of her likes and dislikes. The Queen, having been bred in England, was fond of an outdoor life. In Denmark at that time ladies of rank never went outside their gates except in a carriage, and for them to ride or walk about the streets was unknown. Struensee advised that the Queen should set a precedent, and walk and ride when, and where, she pleased. In pursuance of this advice the Queen, a few days later, to the astonishment of many, was seen walking briskly about the streets of Copenhagen, attended by her ladies. She also rode a great deal, and, though she did not at first appear in public on horseback, she spent hours riding about the park and woods of Frederiksborg. Matilda much enjoyed her new-found freedom, which made a great flutter in all grades of society in Copenhagen. The Danish Mercury wrote a poem on the subject of the Queen walking in the town ending with the lines:—

Struensee also advised the Queen that it was bad for her to remain so much alone. She must have amusement, surround herself with cheerful people and join in the court festivities. He hinted that it was advisable for her to take a more prominent part in these ceremonials, not only because of her health, but because it was incumbent upon her position as the reigning Queen, which, he added discreetly, some people about the court did not seem to respect as they should do. Matilda, who was not very wise, rose to the bait, and before long confided to her physician the mortification and annoyance she suffered from Holck and his following. Struensee listened sympathetically, and told the Queen that though he had not ventured to mention the matter before, he had noticed with amazement and indignation the scant consideration paid to her at her own court. The desire of his heart, he said, was to serve her, and if she would only listen to him, he would improve this state of affairs as surely as he had improved her health. Here the doctor obviously stepped outside his province, but the Queen, far from rebuking him, encouraged him to proceed. Struensee then said deferentially that, since all power and authority came from the King, the Queen would be well advised to court his favour. This advice was not so palatable to Matilda as the other he had given her, especially at this juncture. She could not forget in a moment how cruelly she had been wronged, and she hesitated. Then Struensee changed his note and urged the Queen’s own interest. He spoke to her plainly of the King’s failing mental powers, and declared that henceforth he must always be ruled by some one. It were better, therefore, that the Queen should rule him than another, for by doing so she would gather the regal power into her own hands and so confound her enemies. The King was anxious to repair the past; it was for the Queen to meet him half-way.

The Queen suspiciously asked the doctor what was his object in striving to mediate between her and the King. Struensee replied, with every appearance of frankness, that he was studying his own interests quite as much as those of the King and Queen. The King had been pleased to show him especial marks of his favour, and he wished to remain in his present position. He had noticed that all the preceding favourites of the King had striven to promote disunion between Christian and his consort, and they had, one after another, fallen out of favour and been banished from court. Their fate was a warning to him, and an instinct of self-preservation prompted him to bring about a union between the King and Queen, because by so doing he was convinced that he would inevitably strengthen his own position.

After some hesitation Matilda proceeded to act on this advice also, and, short of admitting the King to intimacy, she sought in every way to please him. The King, also prompted by Struensee, responded with alacrity to his wife’s overtures, and came to lean upon the Queen more and more. Before long Matilda’s influence over her husband became obvious to all. The young Queen delighted in the deference and homage which the time-serving courtiers now rendered to her. Holck’s star was on the wane; he still filled the post of Master of the Ceremonies, but it was the Queen who commanded the revels, and changed, or countermanded, Holck’s programme as she pleased.

Struensee was now surely gaining ground. Both the King and the Queen placed their confidence in him, with the result, as he predicted, that he stood on a firmer footing than any former favourite. The Queen gave him audience every day, and the conversations between them became more intimate and more prolonged. There was nothing, however, at first to show that the Queen had anything more than a liking for the clever doctor, whose society amused and interested her, and whose zeal in her service was apparently heart-whole. Everything so far had succeeded exactly as Struensee foretold, and the vision of future happiness and power, which he portrayed in eloquent terms, dazzled the young Queen’s imagination, while his homage and devotion flattered her vanity.

Struensee’s appearance and manner were such as to impress any woman. He was thirty-two years of age, tall and broad shouldered, and in the full strength of manhood. Though not really handsome, he appeared to be so in a dashing way, and he made the most of all his points and dressed with consummate taste. He had light brown hair, flashing eyes, an aquiline nose and a high forehead. He carried himself well, and there was about him a suggestion of reserved strength, both mental and physical. His manner to the Queen was a combination of deference and easy assurance, which pleased her mightily. By the end of January, 1770, the Queen no longer needed medical advice, but she required Struensee’s services in other ways, and the more she saw of him the more she became attracted to him. Soon a further mark of the royal favour was shown to the doctor, and a handsome suite of rooms was given him in the Christiansborg Palace.

Holck was the first to take alarm at the growing influence of the new favourite, and came to regard him as a rival who would ultimately drive him from court. Struensee looked upon Holck with contempt, and was indifferent whether he went or stayed. But the Queen insisted that he must go at the first opportunity, and Struensee promised that her wishes should be obeyed in this, as in all things—in a little time. Holck confided his fears to Bernstorff, warned him that the doctor was playing for high stakes, and advised him to remove Struensee from the King’s person before it was too late. To the aristocratic Bernstorff, however, it seemed impossible that a man of the doctor’s birth and antecedents could be any real danger, and he laughed at Holck’s warning. This is the more surprising, as both the Russian and English envoys spoke to the Prime Minister about the sudden rise of Struensee, and advised him to watch it well. The Russian minister, Filosofow, went further, and presumed to make some remarks to the King on the subject, which Christian ignored at the time, but afterwards repeated to Struensee and the Queen.

This interference on the part of Filosofow was no new thing. For some years the Russian envoy had practically dictated to the Danish King whom he should appoint and whom he should dismiss from his service. He even presumed to meddle in the private affairs of the Danish court, no doubt at the instigation of his mistress, Catherine the Great. The Danish King and Government submitted to this bondage until the treaty was signed, by which Russia exchanged her claims on Schleswig-Holstein for the counties of Oldenburg and Delmenhorst. As this exchange was eagerly desired by Denmark, the mere threat of stopping it threw the King and his ministers into alarm, and made Russia mistress of the situation. Curiously enough Filosofow, who was a very astute diplomatist, did not realise the changed state of affairs, and continued to dictate to the King as before. The haughty Russian did not consider Struensee to be of any account from a political point of view, but personally he objected to meeting him on terms of equality. He had also, it was said, a grievance against Struensee, because he had outrivalled him in the affections of a beautiful lady of the Danish court. For some time he fretted at the royal favour shown to the upstart doctor, and at last he showed his contempt for him by a public act of insolence.

It chanced in this wise. Wishing to conciliate the Danish monarch, Filosofow gave a splendid entertainment to the King and Queen at the Russian embassy. It consisted of an Italian opera, composed for the occasion, and performed by persons of fashion about the court,[120] and was followed by a banquet. Struensee, who was now invited to the court entertainments, as a member of the third class, was present, and so marked was the favour shown him by the King and Queen that he was admitted to the box where the royal personages were. Filosofow, in his capacity of host, was also in the box, and he was so much irritated at the presence of the doctor that he showed his disgust by spitting on his coat. Struensee, with great self-control, treated the insult as though it were an accident, wiped his coat, and said nothing. Filosofow immediately insulted him again in the same way. This time the action was so unmistakable that Struensee withdrew from the royal box, and later demanded satisfaction of Filosofow. The Russian treated the challenge with contempt. He said that in his country an ambassador did not fight a duel with a common doctor, but he would take his revenge in another way, and give him a sound thrashing with his cane. Whether he carried out his threat is uncertain, but it is certain that Struensee never forgave the insult. The Queen also resented the flouting of her favourite, and, despite the attempted mediation of Bernstorff, she ignored Filosofow at court, and spoke with dislike of him and his mistress, the Empress Catherine, who, she thought, was responsible for her envoy’s meddlesome policy. A few months before it would have mattered little what the Queen thought, or did not think, but now her influence with the King was growing every day.

Eventually Filosofow had to retire from Copenhagen and give place to another, but that was not yet. At this time he again warned Bernstorff that his days of power were numbered, unless he forthwith took steps to get Struensee removed from court. In this the envoy proved more far-sighted than the minister, for Bernstorff still considered it an incredible thing that his position could be seriously threatened. Yet within a month of the Russian’s warning the extraordinary favour which Struensee enjoyed with the King and Queen was further demonstrated.

The small-pox raged in Denmark in the spring of this year, 1770, and in Copenhagen alone twelve hundred children died of it. Struensee advised that the Crown Prince should be inoculated as a prevention. Inoculation had lately been introduced into Denmark, and Struensee’s suggestion was met with a storm of protest from some of the nobility, all the clergy and many of the doctors. Despite this Struensee carried his point; he inoculated the Crown Prince and watched over him in the brief illness that followed. Matilda herself nursed her son, and would not leave his bedside day or night. Her presence in the sick-room threw the Queen and the doctor continually together. Struensee was justified of his wisdom, for the Crown Prince not only escaped the small-pox, but soon rallied from the inoculation which it had been freely prophesied would cause his death. The doctor was rewarded with signal marks of the royal favour; he was given the title of Conferenzrath, or Councillor of Conference, which elevated him to the second class, and was appointed reader to the King, lecteur du roi, and private secretary to the Queen, with a salary of three thousand dollars. Ministers were amazed at the sudden elevation of the favourite, and began to ask themselves whither all this was tending.

Step by step as Struensee rose in honour Matilda gained in power. It was now apparent to all about the court that the Queen, and not the King, was the real ruler of Denmark. The Queen’s ascendency over her consort was so great that he did nothing without her approval. She in turn was guided by Struensee; but, whereas the Queen’s authority was seen by all, Struensee’s power at this time was only guessed at. His plans were not matured. The prize was within his grasp, but he was careful not to snatch at it too soon lest he should lose it altogether. Struensee now accompanied the King and Queen wherever they went, and, since his elevation to the second rank, dined at the royal table. Bernstorff seems to have thought that these privileges were all that Struensee cared about, and given money, a title and social position the doctor would be content, like Holck, with the royal favour, and leave politics alone. He little knew that Struensee in his heart despised these things; they were to him merely the means to an end, and that end was power. In his pursuit of power Struensee swept every consideration aside. Honour, duty and gratitude were nothing to him provided he gained his desire. In his belief in his destiny, his great abilities, his soaring ambition and complete heedlessness of every one save himself, this extraordinary man was a type of the uebermensch.

Struensee’s treatment of the Queen was an example of his utter unscrupulousness. Her condition when he came to court would have moved any man to pity. Her youth, her beauty and her friendlessness appealed to every sentiment of chivalry. The conditions under which Struensee made her acquaintance were the most intimate and delicate. He quickly gained her confidence; she trusted him from the first, and showed her gratitude by heaping favours upon him. Everything that came to Struensee in the next few years—honour, place and power—he owed to the Queen, and to her alone. Common gratitude, apart from any other consideration, should have led him to treat her honourably, but from the beginning he was false to her. He who came in the guise of a deliverer was really her evil genius. The young Queen was never anything to him but a means to an end. Adventurer and intriguer as he was, Struensee had marked Matilda down as his prey before he was admitted to her presence, and she fell an easy victim to his wiles. He made use of her as a shield, behind which he could work in safety. She was to be the buffer between him and his enemies; she was to be the ladder by which he would rise in power. To this end he tempted her with consummate art. He was first her confidential physician, then her devoted servant, then her friend and counsellor, and then her lover. This last phase was necessary to the success of his plans, and he deliberately lured his victim to her ruin in order that he might gain absolute mastery over her. Struensee gradually acquired over the Queen an almost mesmeric power, and she became so completely under his influence that she obeyed his wishes like an automaton. But it did not need hypnotism to cause a woman so tempted, so beset on every side as Matilda was, to fall. She had inherited from her father an amorous, pleasure-loving nature; she was of a warm, affectionate disposition, which had been driven back on itself by her husband’s cruelty and infidelities. Now, it was true, the King was anxious to make amends, but it was too late. Christian had greatly changed in appearance during the last year. Though little over twenty, he already looked like an old man, very thin, with sharp, drawn features and dead-looking eyes. Matilda, on the contrary, was in the full flood of womanhood; her blood flowed warmly in her veins, yet she was tied to a husband who, from his excesses, was ruined mentally and physically, and she was tempted by a lover in the full strength of his manhood, a lover who was both ardent and masterful, and whose strength of will broke down all her defences as though they had been built of cards. Moreover, her environment was bad—as bad as it could be. The atmosphere of the court was one of undisguised immorality; the marriage tie was openly mocked at and derided. The King had often told her to go her own way and let him go his, and now so far from showing any signs of jealousy, he seemed to take a delight in watching the growth of the intimacy between his wife and the confidential physician. He was always sending Struensee to the Queen’s chamber on some pretext or another, and the more Matilda showed her liking for Struensee’s society the more the King seemed to be pleased. That clever devil, opportunity, was all on Struensee’s side.

The Queen had no safeguards against temptation but those which arose from the promptings of her own conscience. That she did not yield without a struggle, that the inward conflict was sharp and bitter, there is evidence to prove.

was the pathetic prayer she wrote on the window of the chapel of Frederiksborg[121] at a time, when in the corridors and ante-chambers of the palace Struensee was plotting his tortuous intrigues, all of which started from the central point of his relations with the Queen. It was he who wished to be great, she who was to make him great, and to this end he demanded the sacrifice of her innocence. The poor young Queen knew her peril, but she was like a bird fascinated by a snake. She fluttered a little, helplessly, and then fell.

The struggle was prolonged for some months, but the end was certain from the first. It was probably during the spring of 1770 that the flood of passion broke the Queen’s last barriers down. Her enemies afterwards declared that she entered on this fatal dalliance about the time of the Crown Prince’s illness. Certain it is that after Struensee had been appointed her private secretary, a marked change took place in Matilda’s manner and bearing. She is no longer a pathetic figure of wronged and youthful innocence, but appears as a beautiful and self-willed woman who is dominated by a great passion. There were no half measures about Matilda; her love for Struensee was the one supreme love of her life; it was a love so unselfish and all-absorbing, so complete in its abandonment, that it wrung reluctant admiration even from those who blamed it most.

Once the Rubicon crossed, reserve, discretion, even ordinary prudence, were thrown to the winds. Struensee’s object seems to have been to compromise the Queen as much as possible, so that she could not draw back. He was always with her, and she granted him privileges which, as Reverdil says, “would have ruined the reputation of any ordinary woman,” though it has been pleaded, on the other hand, that her indifference to appearances was a proof of her innocence. The Queen and her favourite were inseparable; he was admitted to her apartments at all hours; she took solitary walks with him in the gardens and woods, and she frequently drove and rode out alone with him; at balls and masquerades, at the theatre and the opera, he was always by her side; and in public and at court she followed him with her eyes, and did not attempt to disguise the predilection she had for him.

The Queen had no one to remonstrate with her, or guard her from the consequences of her imprudence. It was thought by some that the first use Matilda would make of her new-found power would be to recall Madame de Plessen, whose dismissal against her will she had bitterly lamented. It would have been well for her if she had done so, for Madame de Plessen would have saved her from herself. But if the idea crossed her mind, Struensee would not permit it, for he well knew that the presence of this strict duenna would be fatal to his plans. Madame von der LÜhe, Madame de Plessen’s successor, though she shook her head in private, did not venture to remonstrate with her mistress; her position, she felt, was insecure, and she thought to strengthen it by compliance with the Queen’s whims. The maid of honour, FrÄulein von Eyben, and some of the inferior women of the Queen’s household, secretly spied on their mistress, set traps for her, and generally sought occasion to harm her. But their opportunity was not yet, for the Queen was all-powerful. Matilda had always found the stiff etiquette of the Danish court wearisome; at Struensee’s advice she abolished it altogether in private, and dispensed with the attendance of her ladies, except in public. This enabled her to see the doctor for hours alone—not that she made any secret of these interviews. On the contrary, she talked quite freely to her ladies about her friendship with Struensee, and accounted for her preference by declaring that she owed him a debt of gratitude for all he had done, and was doing, for her. He always took her part; she said, “he had much sense and a good heart”. And it must be admitted he had apparently rendered her service; her health was re-established, and her life was fuller and happier. No longer was she slighted and set aside; she reigned supreme at her court, and all, even her former enemies, sought to win her smiles.

The Queen’s relations with the King were now uniformly friendly, and he seemed quite content to leave authority in her hands. In return she strove to humour him, and even stooped to gratify some of his most absurd whims. It has already been stated that the imbecile Christian had a weakness for seeing women in men’s attire; “Catherine of the Gaiters” captivated him most when she donned the uniform of an officer in his service, and the complaisance of the former mistress on this point was at least explicable. But Matilda was his wife and not his mistress, his Queen and not his fancy of an hour, yet she did not hesitate to array herself in male attire to please her husband, at the suggestion of her lover. It may be, too, that she wished to imitate in this, as in other things, the Empress of Russia, Catherine the Great, who frequently wore uniforms and rode en homme. However this may be, Matilda adopted a riding-habit made like that of a man, and rode astride. The Queen often went out hunting with Struensee, or rode by his side through the city, in this extraordinary attire. She wore a dove-colour beaver hat with a deep gold band and tassels, a long scarlet coat, faced with gold, a buff, gold-laced waistcoat, a frilled shirt with a lace kerchief, buckskin small-clothes and spurs. She had other riding-habits of different designs, but this was the one in which she most frequently appeared in public. She was always splendidly mounted and rode fearlessly. On horseback she looked a Diana, but when she dismounted she did not appear to the same advantage, for the riding-habit made her seem shorter than she really was, and she already showed a tendency to stoutness, which the small-clothes did not minimise. The Queen, however, was so enamoured of her male attire that she frequently walked about the palace all day in it, to the offence of many and the derision of others.[122]

The adoption of this riding-habit greatly tended to lessen the Queen’s popularity, while her intimacy with Struensee before long caused it to disappear altogether. The staider and more respectable portion of the community were ready to believe any evil of a woman who went out riding like a man, and the clergy in particular were horrified; but acting on Struensee’s advice, the Queen never troubled to conciliate the clergy. This was a great mistake in a puritanical country like Denmark, where the Church had great power, if not in the immediate circle of the court, at least among the upper and middle classes. Even the semi-barbarous Danish nobility were disgusted. That the young and beautiful Queen should have a favourite was perhaps, under the circumstances, only to be expected; if he had been one of their own order, the weakness would have been excused. But that she should stoop to a man of bourgeois origin, a mere doctor, who was regarded by the haughty nobles as little above the level of a menial, was a thing which admitted of no palliation.[123] But the Queen, blinded by her passion, was indifferent to praise or blame, and Struensee took a delight in demonstrating his power over her under their very eyes. It was the favourite’s mean revenge for the insults he had suffered from these nobles.