THE DICTATOR.
1771.
When the court removed from Copenhagen to Hirschholm for the summer, it was officially announced that the Queen was likely again to become a mother. The fact had long been known to people about the court, but the publication of it was unduly delayed. Some months before its announcement Gunning wrote to England: “As no declaration has yet been made of her Danish Majesty’s pregnancy, I have long entertained scruples with regard to the propriety of mentioning it; but as nobody seems to make the least doubt of its truth, I am at length convinced I ought no longer to suppress so important a piece of intelligence”.[164] Extraordinary mystery was observed. The Saxon minister informed his court that at the last drawing-room held before the Queen’s confinement, no one ventured to inquire after her Majesty’s health, though it was the usual custom.
The news was ill-received by the Danish people, who had hitherto not been disposed to judge the young Queen too harshly. Except by the clergy, and some women, Matilda was more pitied than blamed, and spoken of with sorrow rather than with anger. But when her pregnancy was at last declared, and an order issued for prayers to be offered for her in the churches, many people (even those who had tried to believe the best) regarded the announcement as a confirmation of their worst suspicions. The clergy in many instances did not obey the order to pray for the Queen, and in some of the principal churches in Copenhagen half the congregation rose up and left the church when the prayer was read. The Danes, though accustomed to the profligacy of their kings, had hitherto regarded their queens as above suspicion. The old Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, had been a model of respectability: Queen Louise was almost worshipped on account of her domestic virtues: even Juliana Maria, the Queen-Dowager, unpopular though she was, on account of her intriguing and vindictive disposition, had never given occasion for the slightest whisper against her fair fame. When, therefore, Matilda, who had come to Denmark little more than four years before, a child-bride with golden hair and blue eyes, the incarnation of innocence, and who (during the early years of her married life) had won all hearts by the way she had borne her sorrows, suddenly put aside her modesty and dignity, surrounded herself with ladies of easy virtue, and compromised herself with a man of inferior position, she alienated the sympathies of the people.
It is true that, even admitting the worst, of which there was no positive proof, the young Queen of Denmark was only imitating the conduct of the Empress Catherine of Russia and her predecessors, the Empresses Ann and Elizabeth. But Russia was a more barbarous country than Denmark, and the priests of the Eastern Church took a more tolerant view of breaches of the seventh commandment than the puritanical clergy of Denmark. Moreover, Catherine conducted her amours with more discretion than Matilda; her conduct in public was a model of decorum, however shameless it might be in private; she was careful always to conciliate the clergy, to respect the rights and privileges of the national Church, and to be regular in her attendance at public worship. But Matilda, urged by Struensee, had attacked the rights of the established Church, and had needlessly shocked the conventions. And whereas the favourites of the Empress of Russia were puppets in her hands, the Queen of Denmark was a puppet in the hands of her favourite.
The insignia of the Order of Matilda.
(1)
The wedding goblet of King Christian VII. and Queen Matilda.
(2)
TWO RELICS OF QUEEN MATILDA IN THE ROSENBORG CASTLE, COPENHAGEN.
(1) THE INSIGNIA OF THE ORDER OF MATILDA; (2) THE WEDDING GOBLET.
It must be repeated that much would have been forgiven the young and beautiful Queen had her favourite been other than he was—had he been a Dane of good birth, who respected the proprieties sufficiently to keep himself in the background. Had the young Queen been first, and her favourite second, she might have gathered as much power in her hands as she would, and have aroused little opposition except at the court of the Queen-Dowager, and those whose interests she attacked. She would certainly have reigned still in the hearts of the people, who were willing to make great allowance because of her wrongs. But when her favourite was a German, an upstart, who flaunted his power over the Queen in the face of the public, and made her do a hundred things which were not in keeping with her rank as a queen, or her dignity as a woman, when every one knew that it was he who dictated the new policy of the King, and used the Queen as a buffer between him and the popular indignation, when he attacked the national institutions and flouted the national sentiment at every turn—it is no wonder that a cry of indignation went up, not only against the minister, but also against the Queen.
This indignation deepened when it was announced on July 7, 1771, that the Queen was delivered of a daughter. Mounted messengers at once conveyed the tidings from Hirschholm, whither the court had gone three weeks before, to Copenhagen, and the birth of the princess was proclaimed in the usual manner from the balcony of the Christiansborg Palace. Royal salutes were discharged from the cannon on the ramparts and at the arsenal, and heralds in gorgeous tabards blew a blast of trumpets from the town hall and the principal church towers. But so far from the event arousing any public rejoicing, ominous murmurs were heard among the people, and the free press did not hesitate to abuse its freedom by more scurrilous articles and gross caricatures. Though there was no proof, the newborn infant was generally believed to be the child of Struensee, “who,” said his enemies, “had shamelessly dishonoured the King’s bed, and introduced his vile posterity in the place of the pure blood of Oldenburg”. It must be stated here, however, that even if the Queen’s indiscretion with Struensee were admitted, it was not impossible that the Princess should have been the King’s child, and this was the view taken later by the Queen’s most inveterate enemies. Unfortunately, colour was given to this damaging report by Struensee assisting with Berger at the accouchement of the Queen; no other physicians were called in, and all the etiquette usual on these occasions was abolished.
With incredible recklessness Struensee chose this time, when his unpopularity was at its height, and the air full of evil rumours, to put the crown upon his audacity by seizing the kingly power in a way no subject had ever dared to attempt before. Struensee’s nominal office hitherto had been that of Master of Requests; in reality he had been dictator, and governed both the state and the court. But this was not enough for his boundless ambition; he was no longer content to work behind the King and Queen, and through his creatures Rantzau, Gahler and Osten. He therefore induced the King to appoint him (or rather he appointed himself) “Privy Cabinet Minister,” and to invest him with absolute authority.
An extraordinary order, signed by the King, and counter-signed by Struensee, was published from Hirschholm, July 15, 1771, a week after the birth of the Princess, and copies were sent to every department of the Government, and the ministers of foreign courts. Briefly, this document ordained that henceforth all orders or directions issued by Struensee and signed by him would have the same force and validity as if they were given under the royal sign manual; and whether the orders of the Privy Cabinet Minister came addressed to the heads of departments, or to their subordinates in office, they were to be instantly and implicitly obeyed. “The cabinet orders issued in this way,” wrote the King, “shall have the same validity as those drawn up by Our hand. They shall be immediately obeyed.”
This decree, which amounted to a virtual abdication on the part of Christian VII. in favour of Struensee, was received with consternation and indignation from one end of the kingdom to the other. At first it seemed impossible that the King could thus vest any subject with unlimited power, but, since no other meaning could be attached to the document, the people declared that it could only have been wrested from the King by force or undue influence. It was now realised that from the beginning Struensee had aimed at absolute power. He first persuaded the King to abolish the Council of State and proclaim himself an absolute monarch, and then forced him to delegate the whole power to him as Privy Cabinet Minister. The Danish nation were, in fact, no longer ruled by their hereditary monarch but by a foreign adventurer, who had usurped the kingly functions, and, having abolished all ministers and councils, gathered up into himself every branch of power and prerogative. The unscrupulousness of the man was only equalled by his audacity. It was the last straw on the back of the long-suffering Danes. Hitherto, the agitation against Struensee had been confined to certain classes; now it represented the whole nation, and not all the laws he had passed for the benefit of the people, nor all the doles he had meted out to them, could avail to quell the tempest of indignation aroused by the publication of this royal decree. Its promulgation at such a time, within a week of the Queen’s delivery, gave credence to the rumour that the infant Princess was not the King’s child but Struensee’s, and it was said that this insolent tyrant, who stopped at nothing, had already formed a plan of getting the King out of the way, of marrying the Queen, of assassinating the Crown Prince, and establishing himself and his posterity upon the throne of Denmark.
The Princess was christened on the Queen’s birthday, July 22, 1771, under the names of Louise Augusta—the first name having been that of the King’s mother, the second that of the Princess-Dowager of Wales. The King, himself, stood as principal sponsor to the child, the others being his brother Prince Frederick, and the Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria. Whispers of the current scandal had reached the ears of the Queen and Struensee, and the choice of these sponsors was a way of contradicting them. The Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick were present at the express command of the King, and dared not disobey. They must have come very unwillingly, for Juliana Maria had already stated in private what she afterwards proclaimed in public—that the legitimacy of the Princess was open to grave suspicion. The child was generally spoken of by the courtiers as “the Ma’amselle”.
The Queen’s birthday and the royal christening formed the occasion of a further elevation of the all-powerful Minister. With reckless effrontery, Struensee chose this day of all others for the King to confer upon him and his colleague, Brandt, the title of Count, the highest title in the kingdom.[165] No estates were granted to the recipients of these honours; it was announced that the King had offered large domains, but Struensee’s modesty would now not allow him to accept this further mark of the royal favour. Both Struensee and Brandt had received large sums from the treasury, and since Struensee could take practically what he liked, he probably thought it would look better to waive any claim to estates for the present. So he made a parade of his disinterestedness, and contented himself with a brand new coat of arms, and other outward signs of his new dignity. The coat of arms must have cost him much thought, for its composition showed remarkable ingenuity. He symbolised in it every department of the state, which he now governed as absolute minister.
“The escutcheon (symbolical of the state) was divided into five fields, the centre one of which represented a sailing vessel (the symbol of commerce) with a crown over it, typical of the monarch and the persons representing him. The first and fourth quarters displayed four rivers (exports and imports idealised) on a field or, which was the symbol of Denmark, rich in corn, and Norway, abounding in metal, wood and fish. In the third and second quarters was a crown surrounded with palm leaves (the symbol of peace and victory) and two crossed keys (the image of authority and might) on a field azure, which allegorically typified fidelity and constancy. Below the coat of arms was the royal crown with the badge of the Matilda Order, surrounded by a laurel wreath (the symbol of fortune, joy and honour), from which flowed two rivers running round the chief escutcheon (the state), supported by two beavers (the representatives of architecture and industry) guarded by bourgeois helmets (emblems of national armament), counts’ crowns (the symbol of the servant of the state), and an owl holding a key in its mouth (as allegories of thought and wisdom). Above the whole was displayed, between two eagle wings (the symbols of power, strength and victory), a man-of-war in full sail (typical of the navy), and above this, again, a suspended crown, surrounded by palm branches (the type of peace).”[166]
Struensee had all his life professed the most radical ideas. He had begun his political career as one who despised rank, titles and display—and yet he crowned it by framing this heraldic absurdity. He had the preposterous coat of arms engraved on the seal which he affixed to cabinet orders; he built himself a magnificent coach, resplendent with crimson and gold, and blazoned it on the panels. He vested his servants and running footmen in gaudy liveries of scarlet and white, and decked them with diamond badges. When Struensee’s valet appeared for the first time in his new livery he fell down the palace stairs, and in his fall broke his badge and his nose, and the blood spoiled his finery. On Struensee being told of this ill-omened mishap, he gave his usual answer to any unpleasant news: “As God wills”. This fatalistic answer also gives the measure of his arrogance, for he had come to consider himself an instrument chosen by God. Certainly, from his rapid rise to power, and the way in which he moulded everything to his will, Struensee may well have believed, with many others, that there was something supernatural about him, though his enemies declared that his power came from the devil. At this time, notwithstanding the universal hatred which he inspired, the Privy Cabinet Minister seemed omnipotent and his tenure of power assured. So much was this the case that Gunning, a very keen observer, thought it would be best to accept the peculiar relations which existed between the Queen and her favourite, and turn them to the advantage of England. In a long and important despatch, written nominally for the guidance of the English Secretary of State, Lord Halifax, in reality for George III., he described at length the situation at the Danish court, and gave a detailed description of the principal personages then in power. As his general view is the one taken in these pages, it is not necessary to go over the ground again, but the following word-portrait of Struensee may be quoted; the more so as it is studiously dispassionate:—
“Mr Struensee, the Favourite, ... was bred a physician, and till within these ten months continued the practice of his profession. He is supposed not to be destitute of some knowledge, acquired at a German university, but with respect to any political attainments, either as they may concern the state of Europe in general, or this country in particular, he has them almost wholly to make. He is said to have carried the freedom of thinking as far as any man, but as his conversation discovers nothing of that vivacity and grace by which other men in a disadvantageous situation have won their way to royal favour, it is universal matter of wonder how he has managed to gain so entire an ascendency over their Danish Majesties. His manner of treating business is dry and ungraceful. He, however, possesses a clear and ready conception of things. A great share of natural confidence, and indifference with regard to the ideas others may form of his principles or abilities, brings him at once without ambiguity or affectation to the point in question, so that he is always intelligible though he may not be agreeable. He appears to have no vanity, but it is supplied by no small share of insolence. A stronger or juster idea of this gentleman’s character cannot be conveyed than by contrasting it (the article only of understanding excepted) with that of Count Bernstorff. The latter was characteristically timid, cautious and irresolute; the former is bold, enterprising and firm. The Minister possessed great extent of political knowledge; the Favourite is uncommonly circumscribed in what relates to this kind of acquisition. Count Bernstorff displayed great refinement of manners with an easy flow of eloquence; Mr Struensee’s address is simple, and his way of speaking inelegant and embarrassed. The Minister’s conduct exhibited a conspicuous example of morality and religion; that of the Favourite is said to be deficient in both.”
After drawing character-sketches of Rantzau, Gahler and others, and reviewing the quarrel with Russia, Gunning went on to show how Struensee might be used to the advantage of England:—
“As the Queen of Denmark is now in full possession of the most absolute power, and free from all imaginable control, it were to be wished that some means dictated by the wisdom of our Royal Master [George III.] were made use of to give her Danish Majesty a true and just idea of the importance of a close and permanent alliance between Great Britain, Denmark and Russia, and prevent her any longer from seeing a connection with the latter through the medium of personal resentment, so that the views of this court might be brought back into their natural channel. Mr Struensee, in whom her Majesty places the most unreserved confidence, and whose vast influence with her is unquestioned, as he is attached to no particular system, might, with proper management, be induced to forget his personal prejudice, and heartily to concur in, and recommend, such measures as the court of Great Britain would wish her Majesty to pursue. This would (if I may presume to offer my opinion) be more advisable than to attempt his removal, which, considering the ascendency he has, could not but be attended with danger. If he was secured, he might easily be made instrumental to the views of the two courts. But as there can be little hopes of gaining the other two [Rantzau and Gahler], or if there were, of any reliance being placed on them, their dismission ought to be effected. The critical state of the King of Denmark’s health makes it of the last importance, both to the Queen’s happiness and the tranquillity of this kingdom, that she should not, in case of the regency devolving on her, be surrounded and advised by men so extremely unpopular and so justly detested as these are universally. I must not conceal from your Lordship that there is scarcely a single family or person in these dominions of any considerable rank, property or influence, who has not been disobliged, disgusted and (as they think) injured; and whose disaffection, there is reason to apprehend, only waits for a favourable opportunity of manifesting itself.”[167]
Gunning’s view did not appeal to the King of England. George III., a model of the domestic virtues, would under no circumstances enter into negotiations with Struensee. To do so would be to condone, or recognise, the position the favourite held with his sister. The official answer to Gunning’s despatch was a note informing him of his promotion as ambassador to Berlin. George III. recognised his minister’s diplomatic abilities, but it seemed to him that what was wanted at Copenhagen at the present juncture was a man of action rather than a diplomatist. He regarded the state of affairs at the Danish court as impossible to last, and therefore replaced Gunning by a man personally known to him, who could be trusted to intervene when matters came to a crisis on behalf of the Queen. The new envoy was Lieutenant-General (afterwards Sir Robert) Murray Keith.[168]
Keith was a Scotsman. Born in Ayrshire, in 1730, he was the son of a British Ambassador at Vienna. He was a man of all-round ability, though he was perhaps more of a soldier than a diplomatist. In early life he wrote some poems of considerable merit, and on arriving at man’s estate entered the army. He fought at the battle of Minden, and later was appointed major-commandant of three new companies of Highlanders, known as “Keith’s Highlanders,” who distinguished themselves in many a hard-fought fight. Eventually they were disbanded, and then some employment had to be found for their distinguished commander. In 1769 he was appointed British Minister at the court of Saxony, and he remained at Dresden until 1771, when George III., looking round for some one whom he could trust, and whose fidelity to his royal house was undoubted, chose Keith to succeed Gunning at Copenhagen.
Keith arrived at the Danish capital in June, 1771, shortly before the birth of the Princess Louise Augusta. He did not take up his new duties with any zest. “Climate, comfort and society are all against me,” he wrote to his father shortly after his arrival at Copenhagen. But he found the place “by far a finer city than I had figured to myself, or had a right to expect from the other Danish towns I had seen upon the road. The streets are broad, the openings and the squares spacious, and the palace, as well as several of the public buildings, magnificent.”[169]
Keith found the situation dominated by Struensee, and like Gunning (who had now gone to Berlin) thought that his tenure in power was assured: “While I am in expectation of his Majesty’s orders on this head,” he wrote, “I shall be equally cautious not to court too far or to disgust this gentleman.... From all I have heard of his character, it seems assiduous to the greatest degree, enterprising and active.... It may not be judging too rapidly of Mr Struensee to suppose that having laboured so hard to get on the pinnacle of power his chief care may for some time be to secure his situation.”[170] And again: “I shall only add that if the general opinion here is to be trusted—for hitherto I have been able to form few opinions of my own—the new Count and Minister will show himself at any risk, and by all means whatever, as tenacious of the power he has grasped as he has been daring and active in attaining to it”.[171]
Keith quickly found that it did not depend on the King of England’s orders for him “to court or to disgust” Struensee as he pleased. The precise degree of intimacy which was permitted him at court, or with the affairs of the government, was regulated by Struensee himself, and a line was laid down beyond which Keith could not pass. The Minister, who probably guessed the motive which prompted George III. to send Keith to Copenhagen, treated the English envoy with marked coldness, and would not permit him to have private audience either with the King or with the Queen. Keith thus found himself checked on the very threshold of his mission; he sent home a bitter complaint of his reception at the court of Denmark. He writes:—
“Count Struensee, after removing from the court every person of this country who could give him umbrage, has at last been prompted by his jealousy of the foreign ministers to make an entire change in the forms of the audiences granted to them.” ... [Here follows an account of how the Russian envoy had been refused audience.]
“When I presented copies of my credentials to Count Osten, he was so civil as to offer to conduct me himself to the audiences at Hirschholm, as there was no Master of the Ceremonies, and I cannot suppose that the Count foresaw a repetition of the above innovation in my case, as, on the contrary, he talked with pleasure of the gracious and even distinguished reception I might expect, being the bearer of the strongest assurances of the friendship and affection of the King for both his Sovereigns. For my part, I had no suspicion of such intention, not being able to figure to myself that any court could pretend to establish by surprise a regulation subversive of the very nature of private audiences.
“When I was ushered into the room, where his Danish Majesty stood alone, I imagined that the folding doors, which had been opened only at my entrance, were again shut after me; but during the audience I found that one, or both, of the doors behind me had been left ajar, or pushed open, after I had begun to deliver the compliment with which I was charged to the King of Denmark.
“I was afterwards carried through several rooms of the palace into one where, unexpectedly, I found her Danish Majesty alone, and the doors on each side of that apartment stood wide open. But, as the Queen was supposed to be within a few hours of her lying-in, I did not judge it proper to make any difficulty with regard to that circumstance, and therefore delivered the King’s letter, accompanied with the expressions contained in my instructions. It had occurred to me from the beginning that to retire in the midst of the audience from the King, or to refuse that of her Majesty in the apparent situation of her health, might be interpreted as disrespectful to one or other of their Danish Majesties.... When I spoke upon this matter to Mr Osten, he was so far from vindicating the innovation that he assured me in positive terms that none such had been intended, and that the door of the King’s room being open must have been owing to accident. I have since had good reason to believe that Mr Osten was either misinformed in this affair, or not sincere in what he advanced.... About a fortnight ago Baron Hamilton was sent by the King of Sweden upon his accession with a compliment to this court, and the audiences granted to him upon this occasion were with open doors.... The affair now came to a crisis, and, as I was sensible how much my court was averse from a dispute of this nature, I not only said all in my power to Count Osten, but, in order to prevent any harsh step being taken, I offered to wait upon Count Struensee at Hirschholm, to lay before him in the most dispassionate manner the forms observed by all the great courts of Europe upon this head, and the impropriety, not to say impracticability, of excluding all private audiences whatever, which was evidently the object of the intended regulation. Count Osten was waiting to see the event of a representation in writing he had just made to the same effect, but if that should fail he accepted my offer of visiting the Cabinet Minister.
“This happened on Wednesday last, prior to our going to pay our court at Hirschholm, and I cannot tell your Lordship how much I was surprised at Count Osten’s acquainting me the same evening that his endeavours were unsuccessful, and my intended conference needless, as it had been declared to him positively that the King of Denmark would abide by the resolution of granting hereafter no audiences to foreign ministers with shut doors.”[172]
Keith soon found that nothing remained for him but to play the waiting game at the court of Denmark. He was subjected to a form of boycott, and both at court and the foreign office he was kept at arm’s length. “At the court,” he writes, “where everything is carried on with an affection of mystery, where the Sovereign and the Prime Minister are equally inaccessible, a foreign envoy is obliged to watch ... the slightest indications to form a judgment of the system of politics likely to be adopted.”[173] And again he writes to his father privately: “An intercourse of an hour for once a week with the court, a formal supper once a fortnight with the fashionable people—make the whole of my public appearances. And what may form a sure prognostic of the future society, I can safely assure you that in a residence of two months I have not been admitted to any one visit that I have made to man or woman, Dane or diplomatique.”[174]
In October he writes again to his father: “I am sorry to say that the climate, society and politics of this kingdom are equally uncomfortable.... The little of summer I saw was sultry and languid, August and almost all September rotten and rainy, and the few clear days we have had lately too chilly to be abroad with pleasure. Five months of a dismal and variable winter are now awaiting us, with as little defence against the cold, both of body and spirit, as can well be imagined. After looking round me with an anxious yet a benevolent eye for anything that may be called ‘society,’ or even a single friend, male or female, I am forced to own to myself that there is not any hope of succeeding.”[175]
Shortly after the arrival of Keith at Copenhagen another person reappeared upon the scene. Reverdil, the Swiss, was recalled to the Danish court, after an absence of three years. His return was due to the fact that Brandt had become tired of his position as sole guardian of the King. Christian VII. was a troublesome charge; he was often morose and sometimes quarrelsome, and a good deal of friction arose between him and Brandt, until the latter found his post exceedingly wearisome. He often left the King in charge of Moranti, a black boy, whom Christian dressed in uniform and made an inseparable companion. Meanwhile Brandt amused himself with the beautiful Countess Holstein, one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, with whom he had an amour. Gallantry, music and the dance were much more congenial to him than the society of the semi-imbecile King. He therefore told Struensee that he must find some one else to take his place, or at least relieve him in part of his duties. Struensee was reluctant that Brandt should resign his position as permanent attendant to the King, for it was necessary to keep him closely guarded from outside influence. But as Brandt insisted, after some reflection, Struensee resolved to recall Reverdil, who, if not his friend, was at least free from any intrigue against his authority.
Queen Matilda and her son, the Crown Prince of Denmark.
QUEEN MATILDA AND HER SON, THE CROWN PRINCE OF DENMARK.
From the Painting at the Rosenborg, Copenhagen.
Reverdil was much astonished when he received a letter from Struensee saying that the King of Denmark desired his return to court, and wished to resume with him the scheme for enfranchising the serfs, and asked him to name his own terms. Reverdil demurred a little at first, and pleaded for time to consider the offer. He communicated with a trusted friend in Copenhagen, and also asked the advice of Count Bernstorff, who was living in retirement at Grabow, near Borstel. Reverdil’s friend at Copenhagen sent him a list of persons who had been appointed and dismissed during Struensee’s administration, and gave him to understand that if he accepted the office he would hold it on a very precarious tenure. Bernstorff, though greatly prejudiced against Struensee, urged Reverdil to go, for the King had need of him, and it was his duty to succour the unfortunate Sovereign. He wrote him a long letter, the gist of which may be summed up in the following quotation:—
“Go to Copenhagen, appear at court, but do not enter into engagements until you have reconnoitred the ground for yourself. If you can do good, do not refuse to do it for a country that needs it. May Heaven grant you merit and glory; but if you see that the means are refused you, do not allow yourself to be drawn into any subordinate, doubtful and odious employment, dictated by harsh, dishonest evil-doers. Do not allow your name to be associated with the names of men about whom the nation is already weeping and posterity will weep for a long time.”[176]
Reverdil determined to follow Bernstorff’s advice, and wrote to Struensee accepting the post on the conditions that he might return home when he thought proper, and the King should pay his travelling expenses both ways. On his journey to Copenhagen, especially in the duchies, Reverdil was struck with the hatred and odium which the name of Struensee inspired among all classes. At Schleswig he met the Princess-Dowager of Culmbach, the great-aunt by marriage of the King, and the Prince and Princess Charles of Hesse. They all lamented the terrible state of things at the Danish court, the insolence of the favourite, and the infatuation of the Queen, and agreed that such an intolerable state of affairs could not long be allowed to continue. The thought appears to have crossed Reverdil’s mind to turn back, but upon reflection he dismissed it, and proceeded on his journey.
Reverdil reported himself at Hirschholm in July (1771). He relates in his Memoirs that he was received by Brandt, who welcomed him with effusion, and told him of the King’s wretched mental condition, of the necessity he had of a constant companion, and his desire that Reverdil should fill the place, since both he and the King had grown weary of one another. Reverdil listened in silence and without enthusiasm. He was then presented to the King and the Queen, who received him with great cordiality. The Queen spoke to him kindly, as, indeed, had always been her wont, and the King was very civil, nothing in what he said revealing his malady. Reverdil was invited to dine at the royal table, and after dinner was admitted to private audience of the King. Christian made some sort of apology for his abrupt dismissal of Reverdil three years ago, and threw the blame of it on Holck. The King’s manner and speech were those of a perfectly sane man, and he appeared to talk quite freely and without constraint. Reverdil had been told in the provinces that every word the King said was dictated to him beforehand by the favourites, but no sign of this was visible in his conversation. The next day Reverdil took a drive with the King and Brandt. Brandt treated the King with scant respect; he occupied the whole of the back of the carriage, and lounged out of the window, that all might see him who passed by. The poor King crouched up in a corner of the other seat with a sad and frightened air, and seemed glad when the drive was over.
Reverdil now entered upon his duties, and remained alone with the King in his apartments. Before long Christian’s mania manifested itself, despite his efforts to conceal it. His mind began to wander, and he broke out into rapid and incoherent speech. Occasionally he would recite lines from Zaire, in which he had acted years before; often he would address Reverdil as “Brandt,” sometimes as “Denize” or “Latour”—two French actors who had been in his service—sometimes by his right name. Now and then he would vaunt himself, and recall the fact that he had been greeted like a god by the English nation, and declare that his glory and magnificence were above those of all other kings on earth. On other occasions he would become depressed and melancholy, and belittle himself, saying that no matter what he did he would never be more than a “little man” of no reputation. He talked much about his infirmities, and sometimes threatened to commit suicide. “Shall I drown myself?” he would say. “Shall I throw myself out of the window, or dash out my brains against the wall?” But this was only talk, for the King feared death greatly. For instance, one day when they were in a boat on the small lake round the palace of Hirschholm, the King said to Reverdil with a look of despair: “I should like to throw myself into the lake”; but he added as a quick after-thought: “and be pulled out again directly”. He was aware of his mania, and strove hard to overcome it, but in vain. There were three marked degrees which he indicated by three German expressions. The first was: “Ich bin confus” (I am confused); the second: “Es rappelt bei mir” (There is a noise in my head); and the third: “Er ist ganz Übergeschnappt” (I am quite beside myself). And often he would declare: “I can bear it no longer”.
The King now talked to Reverdil in German, which, in deference to Struensee, had become the court language, though, formerly, Christian had made it a rule that Danish only should be spoken, except to foreigners, whom he addressed in French. German was never heard at the Danish court during his reign until the advent of Struensee. Though the King said little, he had a shrewd idea of what was going on between the Queen and Struensee. Once Reverdil took up one of the King’s books, and found it marked at the history of Rizzio, the favourite of Mary Stuart. But the King never showed the slightest symptoms of jealousy or resentment at the relations between Struensee and the Queen, and, when he alluded to them, it was to treat the affair as a matter of course. Sometimes he spoke of Struensee as the Queen’s cicisbeo, and on another occasion he asked Reverdil whether he thought that the King of Prussia had an amour with the Queen of Denmark. “The King of Prussia!” exclaimed Reverdil. “I mean Struensee, of course,” said the King, thereby showing the mastery which Struensee had acquired over him; for the King of Prussia, Frederick the Great, had always been Christian’s ideal of a great ruler.
Reverdil found that the rumours which had been spread abroad of the revels of Hirschholm were much exaggerated. The conversation and conduct of the court were quite decent, and, whatever might be going on beneath, little or no hint of it appeared on the surface. But despite the extravagance and luxury everywhere visible, the tone was bourgeois. Reverdil says that “the conversation of the company resembled nothing so much as that of the servants of a large house who sat down to table in the absence of their master”.[177] The corps diplomatique noticed this peculiarity also, and had a hundred good stories to tell their several courts of the ridiculous incidents which came under their notice. As Keith wrote to his father: “This court has not the most distant resemblance to any other under the sun”.[178]
Reverdil gives a curious sketch of the daily life of the court at Hirschholm. When there was no hunting, the King, the Queen, Struensee and Brandt, and some of the ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting assembled at dÉjeuner between eleven and twelve o’clock, and, if the weather were fine, the dÉjeuner was followed by a walk in the gardens and woods. Struensee gave his arm to the Queen as a matter of course, the King to some lady-in-waiting whom he elected to honour, Brandt to the Countess Holstein, and each of the other gentlemen to the lady allotted him. In procession they paraded the grounds, and frequently would dine in a summer-house some distance from the palace. On these occasions etiquette was wholly banished from the royal table. The King and Queen and the company were waited on by pages, who only entered when a bell was rung and left immediately they had changed the courses. The Queen placed herself at table between the King and Struensee, and if the King’s mania asserted itself, as it was apt to do at awkward times, the Queen would command Brandt to lead him out of the room. Sometimes instead of the promenade the King would drive out in the same carriage as the Queen and Struensee. They generally managed to drop the King at some point where his attendant was waiting for him, and often returned late at night together, quite unattended.
Reverdil noticed a great change in the Queen. Formerly her manners were courteous, affable and winning, and she exerted herself to say pleasant things, and place every one at his ease. Now she talked only to Struensee, and ignored the rest of the company. If by chance she addressed a few remarks to any one else, Struensee was always close by, and listened to what was said. The Queen was devoted to her children, especially to the infant Princess. Reverdil had heard rumours of the Crown Prince’s ill-treatment, but he acquitted the Queen of any blame or neglect; she spent as much time with her children as her position allowed, and thoroughly enjoyed the happiness of being a mother. On rainy days, when the court was obliged to remain indoors, the Queen often appeared in the circle, carrying her daughter and leading her son, who clung affectionately to her dress. She always loved children. They were her joy in the hour of her prosperity and her consolation in the day of her adversity.
END OF VOL. I.
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