THE TRIALS OF STRUENSEE AND BRANDT.

1772.

The Queen’s case being ended, it was resolved to proceed without delay against the other prisoners, and chief among these were Struensee and Brandt. Struensee was tried first. The day of his trial was originally fixed for April 10, the day after the sentence of her divorce had been communicated to the Queen at Kronborg, but, as the advocate appointed to prosecute Struensee was not quite ready with his brief, the trial was deferred for eleven days.

Struensee had now been in prison more than three months, and had ample time for reflection. Seven weeks had passed since his shameful confession compromising the Queen, but he made no sign of recanting it; on the contrary, he imagined that it would tell in his favour. Struensee was now a broken man; the signs of premature decay, which first made themselves manifest in the days of his prosperity, had, since his imprisonment, developed with great rapidity. He had shown himself unable to bear prosperity; he was even less able to cope with adversity. Every now and then a flash of the old Struensee would assert itself, but for the most part he was a feeble creature who brooded day after day in his dungeon, and bore but little resemblance to the once imperious minister. All Struensee’s thoughts were now concentrated on a craven desire for life—life at any cost—and to this end he offered up in sacrifice not only the woman who had done everything for him, but all the principles and ideals which had guided him throughout his career.

The Queen-Dowager, who had affected so much concern for the welfare of Queen Matilda’s soul, was equally interested in the soul of Struensee. Perhaps she thought that spiritual terrors might induce him to amplify his already too detailed confession. From the first days of his imprisonment Struensee had been urged to see a clergyman, but had always refused. After his confession of adultery with Matilda, which was taken as a sign of grace, the Queen-Dowager insisted that he should receive a ghostly counsellor, even against his will. To that end she appointed Dr. MÜnter as the fittest instrument to effect Struensee’s conversion. The choice of Dr. MÜnter was of course designed. He was the most fanatical and violent of all the preachers in Copenhagen, and had shown himself a bitter opponent of Struensee and the Queen. He had denounced them from the pulpit in the days of their prosperity, and from the same sanctuary he had savagely gloated over them in the days of their ruin. It was a refinement of cruelty, therefore, to send him, of all others, to the miserable prisoner now.

MÜnter entered upon his task with alacrity. He took a professional pride in his work, and apparently felt much as a doctor would feel who had before him a difficult case; if he could effect a cure, it would be a great triumph for him. But, apart from this, there is no doubt that MÜnter was perfectly sincere. By nature a bigot, and by education narrow-minded, he had all the thoroughness born of that same narrowness. To him it was all-important that he should save Struensee’s soul: the greater the sinner, the greater would be his salvation. Therefore, MÜnter set to work to make Struensee confess everything, heedless, or oblivious, of the fact that, while he was labouring to effect the miserable man’s conversion, he was (by repeating his confessions) helping his enemies to complete his ruin.[56]

MÜnter paid his first visit to Struensee on March 1. The prisoner, who had been told that he must see the man, whom he had always regarded as his enemy, did so under protest, and received the preacher in gloomy silence, and with a look that showed his contempt. But MÜnter—we are quoting his own version of the interview—so far from overwhelming the prisoner with reproaches or exhortations, greeted him in a cordial and sympathetic manner, and told him that he wished to make his visits both pleasant and useful. Struensee, who had not seen a friendly face for months, was disarmed by MÜnter’s manner, and offered him his hand. The latter then opened the conversation by saying that he hoped if he said anything displeasing to Struensee by mistake the latter would overlook it. “Oh, you may say what you please,” answered the prisoner indifferently. MÜnter then began his exhortations with the warning: “If you desire to receive comfort from me, your only friend on earth, do not hug that mistaken idea of dying like a philosophic hero.” Struensee answered, not very truthfully: “In all my adversities I have shown firmness of mind, and therefore I hope I shall not die like a hypocrite.” Then followed a long and animated conversation, in which MÜnter bore the leading part. Struensee now and then ventured to advance arguments which were knocked down like ninepins by the nimble divine. Struensee, though the son of a clergyman, had in his youth become a freethinker, and had always remained so. He was saturated with German rationalism, and by every act and utterance had shown himself to be a confirmed unbeliever in Christianity. It is therefore very unlikely that a man of Struensee’s calibre would be convinced by such arguments as MÜnter adduced—at least, by those which he states he adduced in his book.[57] But Struensee clung to life; he knew that MÜnter was a power in the land, and he thought that, if he allowed him to effect his conversion, he would make a friend who would probably save him from death. In this first conversation he admitted that he was afraid of death: “He wished to live, even though it were with less happiness than he now enjoyed in his prison.” But he would not seem to yield all at once. “My views, which are opposed to yours, are so strongly woven into my mind; I have so many arguments in favour of them; I have made so many observations from physic and anatomy that confirm them, that I think it will be impossible for me to renounce my principles. This, however, I promise: I will not wilfully oppose your efforts to enlighten me, but rather wish, as far as lies in my power, to agree with you.”

On the second visit Struensee showed himself to be a little more yielding, though he said his mind was neither composed nor serene enough to examine into the nature of MÜnter’s arguments. Struensee wept when he thought of the trouble he had brought upon his friends; he had no tears for the woman whom he had betrayed. MÜnter exhorted him to acknowledge his errors and crimes, and search his former life, in order to qualify himself for God’s mercy. “God,” said MÜnter, “has given you an uncommon understanding, and, I believe, a good natural disposition of heart, but through voluptuousness, ambition and levity you have corrupted yourself.” Struensee was flattered by this view of his character, and admitted unctuously that voluptuousness had been his chief passion, and had contributed most to his moral depravity. After seven conferences MÜnter gave Struensee a letter from his father, which he had for some time carried in his pocket, awaiting a favourable opportunity to deliver. The letter was a long and affecting one. It assumed Struensee’s guilt as a matter of no doubt, and worthy of the worst punishment; it lamented that he had not remained a doctor—that his ambition had led him into all these crimes: now nothing would bring his afflicted parents comfort but the knowledge of his conversion. This letter affected Struensee much, and so did another one from his mother, written in the same strain.

There is no need to trace this process step by step. Suffice it to say that after twenty-one days of exhortation, when his trial was drawing near, Struensee was so far converted as to declare to MÜnter: “I should be guilty of the greatest folly if I did not embrace Christianity with joy, when its arguments are so convincing, and when it breathes such a spirit of general benevolence. Its effects on my heart are too strong”—and so forth. In the days that followed Struensee often expatiated on the advantages of the Christian religion, and even advised MÜnter as to the best way of spreading the truths of Christianity among the people. He suggested the distribution of tracts, which does not seem very novel. So zealous was he that he even drew up, in consultation with MÜnter, a long description of his conversion. The document shows undoubted signs that the man’s brain had weakened; it is in parts so confused as to be almost unintelligible. But such as it was, it sufficed for MÜnter, who was overjoyed at the thought that he had snatched this brand from the burning. Yet Struensee, though he expressed repentance for his sins, showed neither repentance nor remorse for his most grievous one—his betrayal of the woman to whom he owed everything. Recantation of this base treachery would have done more to rehabilitate Struensee in the eyes of the world than any number of maudlin confessions detailing his conversion, and it would have been quite as effective for the object which, it is to be feared, the newly-made convert had in view. Struensee’s conversion availed nothing with his merciless enemies; on the contrary, his confessions of weakness and guilt made their task easier. MÜnter’s good-will also availed him nothing; the fanatical divine was only interested in saving his soul; he cared nothing what became of his body. Thus the wretched criminal sacrificed both his Queen and his convictions, and in either case the sacrifice was vain.

Struensee’s trial began on April 21, and Wivet, who had received the King’s orders to prosecute him, opened his indictment in a speech of almost incredible coarseness and ferocity. In his attack, Wivet exceeded the bounds of common decency, though there is no doubt that he voiced the malevolent hatred which was felt against Struensee, not only in the breasts of his judges, but among all classes in the kingdom. Apart from his undoubted offences, which surely were heavy enough, Wivet twitted Struensee with his low birth, his complaisance as a doctor, his ignorance of the Danish language, his errors in etiquette, his fondness for eating and drinking, his corpulence, his unbelieving views, and other peculiarities, forgetting that invective of this kind proved nothing.

The substance of the accusation against Struensee was catalogued under nine heads.

First: His adultery with the Queen. This was based almost wholly on Struensee’s own confession and its confirmation by the Queen, and thus the very deed which Struensee signed in the hope of saving his life was brought forward as the head and front of the evidence against him. FrÄulein von Eyben’s deposition, and Brandt’s and Berger’s depositions were also read, but the evidence of the other witnesses in the Queen’s divorce was not put forward at all.

With reference to the testimony of FrÄulein von Eyben, the advocate said he produced it “not in order to prove what is already sufficiently proved, but only to point out how Struensee strove always to be present at places when there was an opportunity for him to obtain what he desired, and how the indifference with which he was at first regarded by the Person [the Queen] whose confidence he afterwards gained, proves that it was not he who was tempted, but that his superhuman impudence, his bold, crafty and villainous conduct were so powerful that he at last obtained that which virtue and education would never otherwise have granted, and therefore he is the more criminal because he effected the ruin of another in order to gain honour himself”. This shows what even the Queen’s enemies thought of Struensee’s baseness in trying to shield himself behind the pitiful plea that the Queen tempted him. His prosecutors did quite right in scouting such a plea, which, so far from extenuating him, only added to his infamy.

Secondly: Struensee’s complicity in Brandt’s ill-treatment of the King.

Thirdly: The harshness with which he had treated the Crown Prince, “so that it seems as if it had been his sole intention to remove the Crown Prince from the world, or at least to bring him up so that he would be incapable of reigning.”

Fourthly: His usurpation of the royal authority by issuing decrees instead of the King, and attaching his own signature to these decrees.

Fifthly: His suppression and dismissal of the Guards, which was declared to be without the consent of the King.

Sixthly: His peculations from the Treasury. It was stated that Struensee had not only taken large sums of money for himself, but for his brother, for Falckenskjold, for the Countess Holstein, for the Queen, and for Brandt. The Queen’s grant from the Treasury was 10,000 dollars, not a very large sum, and one to which she was surely entitled, as the grant was signed by the King. But the same paper contained grants of money to Brandt, Struensee and Falckenskjold—a grant of 60,000 to Brandt, 60,000 to Struensee and 2,000 to Falckenskjold, a total of 122,000 dollars. It was said that the document which the King signed contained only a grant of 10,000 dollars to the Queen, and 6,000 each to Brandt and Struensee; but Struensee added a nought to the donations to himself and Brandt, and wrote in 2,000 dollars for Falckenskjold, so that he tampered with the document to the extent of forgery. The King now protested that he had never made such a grant.

Seventhly: Struensee had sold, with the Queen’s consent, a “bouquet” of precious stones, although this was one of the crown jewels and an heirloom.

Eighthly: He had given orders that all letters addressed to the King should be brought to him, and he opened them, and thus kept the King in ignorance of what was going on.

Ninthly: He had so arranged the military in Copenhagen in the month of December that everything pointed to hostile intentions on his part, probably directed against the King and the people.

These were the principal charges brought against Struensee by Wivet; but, the advocate said: “To reckon up all the crimes committed by him would be a useless task, the more so when we reflect that the accused has only one head, and that, when that is lost by one of these crimes, to enumerate the other offences would be superfluous.” He therefore demanded that Struensee should be found guilty of high treason, and suffer death with ignominy.

The next day Uhldahl, who had defended the Queen, also undertook the defence of Struensee. The defence was lukewarm—so lukewarm that it could hardly be called a defence at all. The only time when Uhldahl waxed eloquent was when he reproved Wivet for his brutal attacks on the accused, and here it is probable that professional jealousy had to do with his warmth, rather than interest in his client. The chief count in the indictment against Struensee—his alleged adultery with the Queen—Uhldahl kept to the last, and here he offered no defence, for the prisoner had recanted in nowise his confession, but on the contrary made it the ground of a craven cry for mercy. To quote Uhldahl:—

“He throws himself at his Majesty’s feet, and implores his mercy for the crime against his Majesty’s person [adultery with the Queen] first maintained by the Fiscal-General Wivet, but till now unalluded to by him. It is the only thing in which he knows he has consciously sinned against his King, but he confesses with contrition that this crime is too great for him to expect forgiveness of it. If, however, regard for human weakness, a truly penitent feeling of his error, the deepest grief at it, the tears with which he laments it, and the prayers which he devotes to the welfare of the King and his royal family, deserve any compassion, he will not be found unworthy of it. In all the other charges made against him, he believes that the law and his innocence will defend him, and for this reason he can expect an acquittal, but for the first point (which he admits) he seeks refuge in the King’s mercy alone.”

Thus it will be seen, even in his advocate’s defence, Struensee, though denying all the other charges against him, reaffirmed his adultery with the Queen, and on the strength of that admission threw himself on the King’s mercy. The only satisfactory thing about this sordid business is that mercy was not granted to him.

Wivet replied, but Uhldahl waived his right of answering him again, and thus saying the last word in favour of the prisoner. The two advocates had in fact played into each other’s hands; the first inflamed the prejudices of the judges, already sufficiently prejudiced, by malevolent details, the second by scandalously neglecting his duty, and putting in a defence hardly worthy of the name.

Struensee became aware of how the advocate appointed to defend him had given him away, and so he resolved to make a defence of his own, which was certainly abler and more to the point. He wrote a long document, containing an elaborate review of, and apology for, his administration, answering his indictment at every point except one—his intimacy with the Queen; on that alone he kept silence. This document offers a remarkable contrast to the rambling and incoherent effusion in which he gave an account of his conversion. One can only suppose that his heart was in the one and not in the other. In both cases he might have spared himself the trouble, for neither his conversion nor his apology availed him anything.

Brandt’s trial followed immediately on that of Struensee. His treatment in prison had been the same as that of his fellow-malefactor. After his examination he, too, was granted certain indulgences, and an eminent divine was appointed to look after his soul. Brandt’s spiritual adviser was Hee, Dean of the Navy Church. Hee was more of a scholar than MÜnter, and less of a bigot; moreover, he had the instincts of a gentleman, which MÜnter had not, as was shown by the insults he heaped upon the unfortunate young Queen. These considerations perhaps hindered him in his work, for Hee’s “conversion” of Brandt was not so successful as MÜnter’s conversion of Struensee. Brandt received Hee courteously, conversed with him freely, and appeared to be much affected by his arguments; but it may be doubted whether they made any real impression on him, for Brandt, like Struensee, was a convinced freethinker, and, moreover, suffered from an incurable levity of temperament. But, like Struensee, he was anxious to save his life, and to this end he was quite ready to be converted by Hee or any one else. Even so, Brandt’s conversion did not seem to extend much beyond Deism; but that may have been due to his converter, for Hee was not nearly so orthodox a Christian as MÜnter. Brandt was very emotional, and frequently burst into tears when Hee reproved him for the wickedness of his former life, but as soon as the preacher’s back was turned he relapsed into his old levity. This being reported to Hee, he reprimanded the prisoner, and gave him several religious books to read, such as Hervey’s Meditations. Brandt then became very quiet, and his conduct was reported as being most edifying. In fact, he seems rather to have overdone his part, for he would sometimes take up his chains and kiss them, and exclaim: “When I thought myself free I was really a slave to my passions; and now that I am a prisoner, truth and grace have set me at liberty.” He also denounced Voltaire, whom he had met on his travels, and his teaching with great vehemence, and, as for Struensee, he said that he was “a man without any religion, who, from his infancy, according to his own admission, never had the slightest idea or sentiment of piety about him”. Shortly after this denunciation Struensee sent to inform Brandt that he had “found salvation” and he was praying that he too might repent him of his sins. Whereupon Brandt, not to be outdone in hypocrisy, replied that “he greatly rejoiced to hear of Struensee’s conversion. For his own part, he found comfort only in religion, and from his heart forgave Struensee for all he had done to draw him into his misfortunes.”

But Brandt’s pious sentiments and edifying behaviour availed him nothing at his trial. Wivet, who had prosecuted Struensee, also prosecuted Brandt; and Bang, who had prosecuted the Queen, was now appointed to conduct Brandt’s defence. Brandt was indicted on three counts.

First: That he had deliberately committed a gross attack on the person of the King—an awful deed, declared his prosecutor. “In the words of David: ‘How wast thou not afraid to stretch forth thine hand to destroy the Lord’s anointed?... Thy blood be upon thy head.’”[58]

Secondly: That he was an accomplice to the improper intimacy which Struensee had with the Queen.

Thirdly: That he joined Struensee in robbing the Treasury, and was an accomplice to the forged document, whereby he received sixty thousand dollars.

He was also, in a greater or lesser degree, an accomplice in all the offences committed by Struensee. On these grounds Wivet asked for sentence of death.

Wivet handed in this indictment to the judges the same day as the indictment of Struensee. Two days later Bang delivered a half-hearted defence, which may be summarised thus:—

First: Though Brandt fought with the King, he did so at the King’s own command—that he only fought in self-defence, and left off directly the King wished him to do so. He had voluntarily inflicted no injury on his Majesty, and the account given by the prosecution of the affray was very much exaggerated.

Secondly: He was in no sense an accomplice of the intrigue between Struensee and the Queen. Though he felt morally convinced that improper intercourse took place, he had no absolute proof of it, and he could not take any steps in the matter without such proof. Moreover, it would have been as much as his life was worth to have said anything.[59]

Thirdly: If Struensee had committed a forgery, that did not affect Brandt, as he was ignorant of the matter. The grants which had been given him were given with the approval of the King, and, though he received large sums, yet he had to play cards daily with the King and Queen, at which he lost heavily.

Thus it will be seen that Brandt’s defence, though it actually denied none of the charges, gave a plausible explanation of them all. Brandt does not seem to have realised his danger, nor to have imagined that anything he had done, or left undone, could be considered worthy of death. In addition to his defence, he sent a memorial to his judges, and a letter to the King, in which he begged to be allowed to go away, and end his days quietly in Holstein. The letter to the King is lost; but the memorial to the judges remains, and is written in such a spirit of levity that it suggests doubt as to the writer’s sanity. Of course it was unavailing.

The legal farce was now drawing swiftly to a close. On April 25 the judges assembled at the Christiansborg Palace to deliver judgment on both cases. The judgments were very long and argumentative. There is no need to give them at length; to do so would be merely to recapitulate in other words the arguments brought forward by the prosecution. In Struensee’s sentence the chief count against him—his alleged adultery with the Queen—was summed up in a few words: “He has already been convicted of it” (presumably by the Queen’s sentence), “and has himself confessed it: he has thereby committed a terrible crime, which involves in an eminent degree an assault on the King’s supremacy, or high treason, and according to the law deserves the penalty of death”. The rest of the judgment, which occupied some thirty pages, dealt in detail with the other offences alleged against him, and condemned him on every count.

“Therefore,” the judgment concluded, “as it is clear that Count Struensee in more than one way, and in more than one respect, has not only himself committed the crime of high treason in an extreme degree, but has participated in similar crimes with others; and that, further, his whole administration was a chain of violence and selfishness, which he ever sought to attain in a disgraceful and criminal manner; and as he also displayed contempt of religion, morality and good manners, not only by word and deed, but also through public regulations,—the following sentence is passed on him, according to the words of Article I. of Chapter 4 of Book 6 of the Danish law:—

“Count John Frederick Struensee shall, as a well-deserved punishment for himself, and as an example and warning for others of like mind, have forfeited honour, life and property, and be degraded from his dignity of count and all other honours which have been conferred on him; his coat of arms shall be broken by the executioner; his right hand shall be cut off while he is alive, and then his head; his body quartered and broken on the wheel, but his head and hand shall be stuck on a pole.

“Given by the Commission at the Christiansborg Palace, this 25th day of April, 1772.”

Here follow the signatures of the nine judges, headed by that of Baron Juell-Wind, and ending with that of Guldberg.

Brandt’s sentence was delivered at the same time. It contained no direct allusion to the Queen, and was a long, rambling and confused document. Finally, it declared that, by his treacherous and audacious assault on the person of the King, he had committed an act of high treason, which deserved the punishment of death, according to the same article of the Danish law as that quoted in the case of Struensee. Therefore:—

“Count Enevold Brandt shall have forfeited honour, life and property, and be degraded from his dignity of count and all other honours conferred on him; his coat of arms shall be broken by the executioner on the scaffold, his right hand cut off while he is still alive, then his head; his body quartered and exposed on the wheel, but his head and hand stuck on a pole.

“Given by the Commission at the Christiansborg Palace, this 25th day of April, 1772.”

The judgments were immediately published in the Danish journals. Thence they found their way into foreign newspapers, and were by them adversely criticised, not so much on account of the punishment, as for the extraordinary and diffuse way in which the judgments were written. In Denmark they were received with enthusiasm by the great majority of the people, but there was a minority growing up which regarded them more dubiously, and was disposed to criticise. The Government, however, determined to allow little time for criticism or reaction, and resolved to carry the sentences into effect at the earliest possible moment, before any change took place in public opinion.