THE MASKED BALL.

1772.

On January 8, 1772, the King and Queen returned to the Christiansborg after an absence from their capital of seven months. It required some courage to enter a city on the verge of insurrection, but the court could not remain away from Copenhagen for ever, and Struensee at last came to the conclusion that it would be better to put on a bold front, and meet his enemies on their own ground. Extraordinary precautions were taken to ensure his personal safety, and that of the King and Queen. They entered Copenhagen as though it were a hostile city. Keith thus describes the entry: “The court returned to Copenhagen on Wednesday, and the apprehensions of the Prime Minister are still very visible by the warlike parade with which the court is surrounded. Dragoons are posted on the market places, and patrols in the streets, and twelve pieces of cannon are kept constantly loaded in the arsenal. The entrance into the French play-house is lined with soldiers, and their Majesties in going from the palace to the opera-house, though the distance is not above three hundred yards, are escorted by an officer and thirty-six dragoons. Notwithstanding all these precautions, I see no reason to apprehend the smallest danger to the persons of their Majesties, and am willing to hope that the popular discontent may soon subside, if the Minister does not blow up the flame by some new act of violence.”[16]

There was certainly no danger to the King. The people regarded him as a prisoner in the hands of the unscrupulous Minister, and their desire was to deliver him from that bondage. The Queen was only in danger because of her blind attachment to Struensee. If he could be removed, or induced to resign quietly, all would be forgiven her, for her youth, her inexperience and her infatuation aroused pity rather than anger in the breast of the multitude. But, as Struensee’s accomplice, she shared in his unpopularity, and the wrath of the Queen-Dowager and the clergy was especially directed against her. Matilda had no fear for herself; all her fears were for the man whom she still loved with unreasoning adoration; she trembled lest he might be forced to leave her, or fall a victim to the vengeance of his enemies. During the dangers and alarms of the last six months, she alone remained true to him; the hatred of his enemies, the treachery of his friends, the warnings and remonstrances of those who wished her well, made no difference. His craven fears, the revelation that her hero was but a coward after all, even the ingratitude and brutal rudeness with which he sometimes treated her, forgetting the respect due to her as Queen and woman, forgetting the sacrifices she had made for him, and the benefits she had rained upon him—all this did not make any change in her devotion; she still loved him without wavering or shadow of turning. Even now, when the popular execration was at its height, she bravely stood by his side, willing to share the odium excited by his misdeeds. Though all should fail him, she would remain.

The day of the return to Copenhagen there was a ball at the Christiansborg Palace; on the following Saturday there was the performance of a French play at the royal theatre; on the following Monday there was a court. On all these occasions the Queen, heedless of murmurings and averted looks, appeared with Struensee by her side, as though to support him by her presence. Indeed, she sought by many a sign and token to show to all the world that, however hated and shunned he might be, her trust and confidence in him were unbroken; and he, craven and selfish voluptuary that he was, set his trembling lips, and sought to shelter himself from the popular vengeance behind the refuge of her robe.

It was at this time—the eleventh hour—that George III. made one more effort to save his sister. Mastering his pride, he wrote to her yet another letter, urging her for the good of her adopted country, for her own personal safety, and for the honour of the royal house from which she sprang, to send away the hated favourite, and recall Bernstorff. So anxious was the King of England that this letter should reach his sister that he overcame his repugnance to Struensee sufficiently to command Keith to deliver it to the Queen through Struensee’s hands, according to her wishes.[17] The letter was duly delivered, but before an answer could be returned it was too late.

The continued favour shown by the Queen to Struensee, the close guarding of the royal palaces, the display of military force in the city, and the disbanding of the guards, who were regarded in a special sense the bodyguard of the monarch, all lent confirmation to the rumour that a coup d’État was imminent—that Struensee meant to seize the person of the King, depose him, or otherwise make away with him, marry the Queen, and proclaim himself Regent, or Protector of the King. Moreover, it was whispered that he had become acquainted with the Queen-Dowager’s intrigues against his authority, and was contemplating the arrest of Juliana Maria and her son. This rumour, to which the military preparations gave colour, was told the Queen-Dowager by interested persons, with a view to forcing her at last to act. Juliana Maria was an imperious, hard, intriguing woman. From the first she had disliked Matilda, and wished her ill, but there is no evidence to show that she would have headed a revolution against her had she not been driven into it by force of circumstances. That the Queen-Dowager desired and plotted the overthrow of Struensee was natural and excusable. He had treated herself and her son with marked disrespect; he had privately insulted and publicly affronted them. His reforms both in church and state were entirely opposed to her views; his intrigue with Queen Matilda she considered dishonouring to the royal house, and his influence over the King harmful to the monarch and the nation. Juliana Maria and her son represented the old regime and were naturally looked up to at a crisis; in any event, she would have been forced into opposition to the existing state of affairs.

But Juliana Maria was above all things cautious. She was fully alive to the peril of provoking the powerful minister and the reigning Queen, who, holding, as they did, the King’s authority, were omnipotent. The Queen-Dowager had been anxious to bring about the dismissal of Struensee by peaceful and constitutional means; but these had failed; neither warnings nor threats would make him quit his post. Moreover, she distrusted Rantzau, who headed the conspiracy against him. She was averse from violent measures, which, if unsuccessful, would assuredly involve both her and her son in ruin. Therefore, though she had been cognisant of the growth of the conspiracy against Struensee for many months—though she had conferred with the conspirators, and secretly encouraged them—yet up to the present she had hesitated to take action. Even the mutiny of the guards, when the mutineers were shut up in the palace with her, had not moved her to make the decisive step. It was not until information was brought her of a threatened coup d’État, and the probable imprisonment of herself and her son, that she determined to hold back no longer. Rantzau, who knew well the Queen-Dowager’s reluctance to commit herself, finally secured her adhesion to the conspiracy by means of a forged paper, which contained a full account of Struensee’s supposed coup d’État. A copy of this plan, which never existed in the original, was given by Rantzau to Peter Suhm, the Danish historiographer royal, who stood high in the opinion of the Queen-Dowager. According to it January 28 was the day fixed for the King’s abdication, the appointment of the Queen as Regent and Struensee as Protector. Suhm at once took the document to Juliana Maria, and urged her to immediate action. There was no time to be lost, he told her, for the man who meditated usurping the regal power would not long hesitate before committing a further crime. The assassination of the King would assure him of the couch of the Queen, and the Crown Prince, either imprisoned, or succumbing to the rigours of his treatment, would make way for the fruit of this intercourse. For this motive and no other had Struensee revoked the law which prohibited a repudiated wife from marrying the accomplice of her infidelity. The man who had abolished the Council of State would repeal, if need be, the Salic law, which had hitherto prevailed in Denmark. The Queen-Dowager was fully persuaded by this document; she resolved to call a meeting of the conspirators, and nip Struensee’s alleged plot in the bud. The situation, she agreed, was desperate, and admitted of no delay.

These conspirators included Rantzau, who has already been spoken of at length. Prince Frederick, the King’s brother, who, being weak in body and not very strong in mind, was entirely under the control of his mother. Ove Guldberg, Prince Frederick’s private secretary, who had acted as a means of communication between the other conspirators and the Queen-Dowager, and finally won her over to the plot. He was a man of great ability, a born intriguer, and exceedingly cautious; Juliana Maria placed implicit confidence in him, and was confident that he would not embark on a desperate enterprise of this kind unless it was sure of success.

Two prominent officers also joined. One was Colonel KÖller, who commanded a regiment of infantry, a bold, rough soldier, brave as a lion, and strong as Hercules—a desperado, of whom Struensee said: “He looks as if he had no mother, but was brought into the world by a man.” The other was General Hans Henrik Eickstedt, who commanded the regiment of Zealand dragoons, which had now taken the place of the discharged guards, and did duty at the palace of Christiansborg. Eickstedt was not a man of any special ability, but he was honourable and trustworthy, which is more than could be said of most of the other conspirators. He honestly believed that Struensee’s overthrow, by whatever means, was necessary for the salvation of Denmark, and, when he learned that the Queen-Dowager had thrown her Ægis over the conspiracy, he joined it without asking any questions; otherwise the character of some of the conspirators might have made him pause.

The last of these active conspirators was Beringskjold, who had much experience in intrigue. He had played the part of Danish spy at St. Petersburg, where he made the acquaintance of Rantzau, and, like him, took part in the conspiracy which resulted in the deposition and murder of Peter III. Beringskjold later came back to Denmark and got into pecuniary difficulties. It was at this time that he renewed his acquaintance with Rantzau, who, seeing in him the tool for his purpose, made him acquainted with the plot against Struensee, which Beringskjold eagerly joined. He was especially useful in maturing the conspiracy, for his spying proclivities and Russian experiences were invaluable in such an undertaking. It was he who insisted that the Queen-Dowager must take an active part in the conspiracy, for he well knew that without her it would stand no chance of success. Beringskjold also knew that no revolution could be carried through without the aid of the army, and it was he who won over Eickstedt and KÖller.

A subordinate conspirator was Jessen, an ex-valet of Frederick V. He was now a prosperous wine merchant in Copenhagen, and was much esteemed by the Queen-Dowager, who knew him as a tried and faithful servant. Jessen was employed as a medium between Juliana Maria and Guldberg at Fredensborg and the other conspirators in Copenhagen. He informed her of the state of feeling in the capital, and circulated rumours detrimental to Struensee and Queen Matilda. He sent reports of the progress of the plot to Fredensborg, addressing his letters, for greater security, under cover to the Queen-Dowager’s waiting woman. When Juliana Maria returned to Copenhagen and took up her residence at the Christiansborg, it was Jessen who arranged the secret meetings of her party. They were held at the house of a well-known clergyman named Abildgaard, rector of the Holmenskirke. The house was close to the palace, and had entrances from two different streets.

Here, when the Queen-Dowager at last determined to act, a meeting of the conspirators was summoned and the details of the plot were arranged. It was decided to seize Queen Matilda, Struensee, Brandt and their adherents, obtain possession of the King and force him to proclaim a new Government. Once get possession of the King and the rest would be easy, for Christian VII. could be made to sign any papers the conspirators might require, and as absolute monarch his orders would be implicitly obeyed. To this end Jessen produced a plan of the Christiansborg Palace, showing the King’s apartments, the Queen’s, and the private staircases that led from her rooms to those of the King and Struensee; the situation of Brandt’s apartments, and of others whom it was resolved to arrest. The conspirators decided to strike their blow on the night of January 16-17(1772). On that evening a masked ball was to be given at the palace, and in the consequent bustle and confusion it would be easy for the conspirators to come and go, and communicate with each other, without being noticed. Moreover, on that night KÖller and his Holstein regiment had the guard at the palace, together with a troop of Zealand dragoons under the command of Eickstedt. Therefore the whole military charge of the palace would be under the control of two of the conspirators, and the inmates would be at their mercy.

The night of January 16 came at last. In accordance with their recent policy of showing a bold front to their enemies, the Queen and Struensee had arranged the masked ball, the first given since the return of the court to Copenhagen, on a scale of unusual magnificence. The royal hospitality on this occasion was almost unlimited, for all the nine ranks of society, who by any pretext could attend court, were invited. This in itself was a proof of Struensee’s false sense of security, for, at a time when the city was seething with sedition, to give a masked ball to which practically every one was admitted was to lay himself open to the danger of assassination. The ball was held in the royal theatre of the Christiansborg Palace, which had lately, under Brandt’s supervision, been elaborately redecorated. Crystal chandeliers sparkled with thousands of lights, and the boxes round the theatre were gorgeous with new gilding and purple silken hangings. The auditorium was on this occasion raised level with the stage, so that the whole formed one large hall for the dancers. The band was placed at the back of the stage, and the wings were converted into bowers of plants and flowers, lit with coloured lamps.

The King and Queen, with Struensee, Brandt, and all their court, entered the theatre at ten o’clock, and dancing immediately began. The King, who no longer danced, retired to the royal box where card-tables were arranged, and played quadrille with General and Madame Gahler, and Justice Struensee, brother of the Prime Minister. The Queen, who was magnificently dressed[18] and wore splendid jewels, danced continually, and seemed in high spirits. Every one remarked on her beauty and vivacity. The Queen-Dowager never attended masked balls, so that her absence called forth no comment; but Prince Frederick, contrary to his usual custom (for he was generally waiting on these occasions to receive their Majesties), was more than an hour late, and when he at last arrived, his flushed face and nervous air revealed his agitation. But the Queen, who thought that his unpunctuality accounted for his nervousness, rallied him playfully and said: “You are very late, brother. What have you been doing?” “I have had some business to attend to, Madam,” he replied in confusion, as he bowed over her extended hand. “It seems to me,” said the Queen gaily, “that you would do better to think of your pleasure than your business on the evening of a ball.” The Prince stammered some reply, which the Queen did not heed; she dismissed him good-humouredly, and resumed her dancing.

Several of the conspirators were present to disarm suspicion, including KÖller and Guldberg, who strolled about as though nothing was impending. Presently KÖller sat down to cards in one of the boxes, and played in the most unconcerned manner possible. When Struensee went up to him and said: “Are you not going to dance?” KÖller replied with covert insolence: “Not yet. My hour to dance will arrive presently.” As usual at the court entertainments, Struensee, after the Queen, was the most prominent figure. Richly clad in silk and velvet, and with the Order of Matilda on his breast, he played the part of host in all but name. Whatever might be the feeling outside the palace walls, within there appeared no hint of his waning power; he was still the all-powerful minister, flattered, courted and caressed. The Queen hung on his lightest word, and a servile crowd of courtiers and place-hunters courted his smile or trembled at his frown. He was the centre of the glittering scene, and, though there were few present who did not secretly hate or fear him, all rendered him outward honour, and many envied him his good fortune.

Though the ball was brilliant and largely attended, the company was hardly what one might expect to find at the court of a reigning monarch. The bearers of some of the oldest and proudest names in Denmark were absent; and their places were taken by well-to-do citizens of Copenhagen and their wives. A few of the foreign ambassadors were present, including the English envoy, General Keith. He probably attended in pursuance of his determination to be at hand to help and defend his King’s sister, in case of need. Keith feared some outbreak of violence, which would place the Queen in personal danger. He does not seem to have had the slightest inkling of the organised plot against her honour and her life. He was not ignorant, of course, of the dislike with which the Queen-Dowager and her son, representing the nobility, the clergy and the upper classes generally, viewed the Struensee regime, for which Matilda was largely responsible; but he thought they would act, if they acted at all, in a constitutional manner, by promoting the recall of Bernstorff, and the overthrow of the favourite.

The evening was not to pass without another display of Struensee’s insolence, and a further affront to Prince Frederick. The favourite supped in the royal box with the King and Queen, but the King’s brother was not admitted, and had to get his supper at a buffet, like the meanest of the guests. The insult was premeditated, for Reverdil tells us that he heard of it the day before, and interceded for the Prince in vain. The Prince probably did not mind, for he knew that the favourite’s hour had struck. But for Struensee, as he feasted at the King’s table, there was no writing on the wall to forewarn him of his doom.

The King left the ballroom soon after midnight, and retired to his apartments; the Queen remained dancing for some time longer. The company unmasked after supper, and the fun became fast and furious; the ceremony usual at court entertainments was absent here, and all etiquette and restraint were banished. The Queen mingled freely with her guests, and enjoyed herself so much that it was nearly three o’clock before she retired. Her withdrawal was the signal for the company to depart, and soon the ballroom was deserted and in darkness.

The Countess Holstein had invited a few of her intimate friends, including Struensee, Brandt and two ladies, to come to her apartments after the ball. But one of the ladies, Baroness Schimmelmann, excused herself on the plea of a severe headache, and the other lady, Baroness BÜlow, was unwilling to go alone, and therefore the party fell through. Had the Countess Holstein’s party taken place, as by the merest chance it did not, it would probably have upset the plans of the conspirators, or at least rendered them more difficult to carry out, for the principal men marked down for prey would have been gathered together in one room, and would have resisted or tried to escape.

The stars in their courses seemed to be fighting for the Queen-Dowager, for this evening also the conspiracy had been on the brink of failure owing to the vacillation of Rantzau. This traitor, whose only wish was to get his debts paid, had no more faith in the promises of the Queen-Dowager than in those of Struensee (though the event proved that he was wrong), and at the eleventh hour considered that the enterprise was too hazardous. He therefore resolved to be on the safe side, and reveal the whole conspiracy. To this end, about eight o’clock in the evening, before the ball, he drove secretly to the house of Struensee’s brother. But the Justice had gone out to dinner, and Rantzau therefore left a message with the servant, bidding him be sure to tell his master, directly he came home, that Count Rantzau desired a visit from him immediately on a matter of great importance. Justice Struensee returned soon after, and the servant gave him the message, but he knew the excitable character of Rantzau, and said: “The visit will keep until to-morrow morning. The Count is always in a fuss about trifles.” He therefore went on to the ball, where he played cards with the King.

Rantzau, meanwhile, wondered why the Justice did not come, and worked himself up to a state of great alarm. He would not go to the ball, but wrapped his feet in flannel, went to bed and sent KÖller word that a violent attack of gout prevented him from keeping his appointment in the Queen-Dowager’s apartments as agreed. The other conspirators were much disturbed by the message, for they feared treachery. Beringskjold was sent to persuade the Count to come, and when Rantzau pointed to his feet, he suggested a sedan chair. Still Rantzau made excuses. Then KÖller, who knew the manner of man with whom he had to deal, sent word to say that if he did not come forthwith he would have him fetched thither by grenadiers. The threat was effectual, and Rantzau, finding that Struensee’s brother did not appear, yielded, and was carried to the Christiansborg in a sedan chair. When there, he regained his feet, and became in a short space of time miraculously better.

KÖller early quitted the masquerade, where he only showed himself for a short time to disarm suspicion, and had a hurried conference with Eickstedt in another part of the palace. The two officers, each possessed of an order signed by the Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick, then separated—KÖller to look after the garrison, and Eickstedt the palace guard. Eickstedt went to the guard-room and summoned the officers of the guard. The proceedings were conducted with the greatest secrecy, and, when the officers had all arrived, Eickstedt lit a candle, which he placed under the table, so that no one might see the assembly from without. By this dim light he read an order, signed by the Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick, to the effect that, the King being surrounded by bad people, and his royal person in danger, his loving brother and stepmother hereby commanded Colonels KÖller and Eickstedt to seize that same night Counts Struensee and Brandt, and several other persons named, and to place them under arrest. The Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick had not the slightest right to command the troops; the document was, in fact, a usurpation of the royal authority; but that was a matter which concerned Eickstedt and KÖller. The subordinate officers, who, in common with the whole army, hated Struensee, were only too glad to carry the order into effect, the responsibility resting not with them, but with the Queen-Dowager and their commanders. After they had all sworn obedience, Eickstedt gave them their orders. When all was ready, they were to advance at half-past three o’clock, or as soon as the ball was quite over, occupy all the doors of the palace, and allow none to go in or go out. They were at first to try to stop them politely, and if that failed, to use force. A picket of dragoons, with their horses bitted and saddled, were also to be in readiness.

At the same time KÖller went the round of the garrison, collected all the officers on duty, and read to them a similar order. The aid of the garrison was requested in case of need. The officers of the city guard promised obedience, and returned to their several posts.

Everything was at last in readiness. Except in the Queen-Dowager’s apartments, the whole palace was perfectly quiet. The lights were put out; the last of the revellers had gone home; the King and Queen, Struensee and Brandt, and the rest of the court had retired to their apartments, and were, most of them, asleep. Within and without the palace was held by armed men; the net was so closely drawn that there was no possibility of the prey escaping.