THE DIVORCE OF THE QUEEN.

1772.

The trial of the Queen began on March 14, in the great hall of the Court of Exchequer at Copenhagen. The whole of the commissioners were present, and the proceedings were vested with every possible solemnity. The court was opened by prayer, offered by the aged Bishop of Zealand, who had officiated at the Queen’s marriage five and a half years before. The judges who formed part of the commission were formally released from their oath of allegiance to the King during the trial, that they might judge of the matter between Christian and his consort in the same way as they would that between any ordinary man and wife.

Bang, a lawyer of the Court of Exchequer, undertook the King’s cause, and Uhldahl, an eloquent advocate of the Supreme Court, was appointed to defend the Queen. He was not chosen by Matilda, but by her enemies, with the object of throwing dust in the eyes of the world. A demand had been made that the Queen should receive a fair trial, and as a proof of its fairness Juliana Maria was able to point to the fact that the most eloquent advocate in Denmark had been retained for the Queen’s defence. The device was clever, but transparent. Though the trial was that of the King against the Queen, neither of these exalted personages put in an appearance: the King was probably ignorant of what was going on; the Queen, who might reasonably have expected to be present at her own trial, was not given the option of attending. Nothing would have induced the Queen-Dowager to permit Matilda to return to Copenhagen, even as a prisoner. Her youth, her beauty, her misfortunes, might have hastened a reaction in her favour, and, moreover, it was even possible that she might by some means have effected a meeting with the King, and such a meeting would have been fatal to all the plans. The King would probably have forgiven her straight away, and taken her back as his reigning Queen. Therefore, the Queen-Dowager determined to keep Matilda safely shut up at Kronborg until she could remove her to a more distant fortress—that of Aalborg in Jutland, a most desolate spot. The fact that, so early as February 8, or more than a month before the trial opened, commissioners had been sent to Aalborg to inspect the castle with a view to its occupation by the young Queen, is sufficient to prove that the whole trial was a farce, since her sentence and punishment had been determined before it began.

The first week of the trial was occupied in preliminaries, such as taking the depositions of witnesses. These witnesses were many in number. The most prominent of them was FrÄulein von Eyben, who had been maid of honour to the Queen. This woman, whose virtue was by no means above suspicion, had been thrust upon the Queen by Holck after the dismissal of Madame Plessen. The Queen had never liked von Eyben, and when she became mistress of her own household, she dismissed her. That she was wise in doing so was shown by the fact that this woman now came forward with detailed accounts of the traps she had set to convict the Queen of a guilty intimacy with Struensee. Her evidence was categorical, but it was given with so much animus that it would have been regarded as prejudiced by any unbiassed judges. The other witnesses were all of the kind common in divorce courts—servants, maids, footmen, and the like—all of whom a few dollars would buy to swear anything. Such evidence is tainted at the source, and no judge ought to be influenced by it. Matilda was always the most generous and indulgent of mistresses; yet these menials, who had been treated with every kindness, now turned and gave evidence against her—the usual kind of evidence, such as listening at doors, peeping through keyholes, strewing sand on the floor, turning out lamps or lighting them, and other details of a more particular nature, unfit to be related here. Suffice it to say that the dear secrets of the Queen’s unhappy love were profaned by the coarse lips of these hirelings.

The depositions of these witnesses are still preserved in a small iron box in the secret archives of Copenhagen. For many years they were missing, but about twenty years ago the box was found, and opened in the presence of the chief of the archives, the Prussian minister then at Copenhagen, and Prince Hans of Glucksburg, a brother of the present King of Denmark, Christian IX. The papers were examined and sorted, put back in the box again, and passed into the safe keeping of the secret archives, where they have since remained. The papers include not only the depositions of witnesses, but also some letters of the Queen. Yet, curiously enough, a few of these depositions were published in a pamphlet by Jenssen-Tusch[50] some years before the existence of the box was known to the authorities. Wittich afterwards repeated these quotations with great force against the Queen.[51] The great bulk of these papers have never been published, and it may be hoped never will be, for their publication would only gratify prurient curiosity. If such evidence be admitted, then all possibility of the Queen’s innocence is at an end; but the question will always remain how far these witnesses, mostly drawn from the lowest class, were suborned to testify against their mistress.

On March 24, before the whole assembly of the commissioners, Bang, the King’s advocate, submitted his indictment of Queen Matilda. It was a lengthy document, prepared with great care. The beginning sounds the keynote of the whole:—

“Only the command of my King could induce me to speak against the Queen, and it is with a sense of the deepest humility, and with horror and grief, that I proceed to investigate the conduct of Queen Caroline Matilda, and submit the proofs that she has broken her marriage vow. I am compelled to indict her Majesty on these counts, because above all others the King’s marriage bed must be kept pure and undefiled. As a husband the King can demand this right, and he is bound to assert it for the honour of his royal house, and the welfare of his nation. As a husband the King can demand this right given him by the marriage vow; as the head of his royal house he is bound to guard the supremacy, antiquity, honour and purity of the Danish royal family. The virtues of this exalted family are known to the whole world; but if a foreign stock were grafted on the royal stem, and the offspring of lackeys came to bear the name of the King, the antiquity of this exalted family would cease, its supremacy weaken, its respect be lost, its honour abased, and its purity sullied.... Hence his Majesty, as husband of his wife, as first of his race, and as King of his people, has appointed this commission. His personal right, the honour of his house, and the security of the nation simultaneously demand that the justice and loyalty which animate this commission should, in accordance with the law of God, the law of nature, and the law of this country, dissolve the marriage tie which binds Christian VII. to her Majesty, Caroline Matilda.”

Bang then proceeded to submit his evidence. It may be divided into five heads.

First and foremost, there was the confession of Struensee on February 21, a confession which he repeated subsequently on February 24 with the fullest details, and signed with his own hand.

Secondly, there was the Queen’s confirmation of this document, which she signed at Kronborg on March 9. By doing so she admitted that she had broken her marriage vow, and so forfeited her rights as wife and queen.

But since it might be argued that these confessions were extorted by threat, torture or other unfair means, the evidence of other persons was submitted. Moreover, according to the law of Denmark, it was not alone sufficient that the accused persons should confess their guilt, as for divers reasons, known to themselves, they might not be speaking the truth. The advocate, therefore, proceeded to quote the evidence of a great number of witnesses, who had been previously examined by the commission. This evidence went to show that so long ago as the winter of 1769 and the beginning of 1770 the Queen’s bed-chamber women and sundry lackeys formed suspicions that there was something wrong between Struensee and the Queen. They therefore spied on the Queen’s movements, and set a trap for Struensee, with the result that their suspicions were confirmed. After taking counsel together, these women, “with quaking hearts and tear-laden eyes,” approached the Queen, who, seeing them thus disturbed, asked them kindly what was the matter. They then, instead of telling her they had spied, said there were evil rumours about the court concerning herself and Struensee, that the Queen-Dowager was aware of them, and threatened to bring the matter before the Council of State. They affected to believe that the rumours were unfounded, but wished the Queen to be more careful. The Queen apparently neither admitted nor denied anything; at that time she was ill, and Struensee was the medical attendant sent her by the King, but she said that she would consult him about it, and perhaps if she did not see him so often the rumours would die out. But after the Queen had consulted Struensee, she changed her tone, and said to her women: “Do you know that any woman who speaks in such a way about the Queen can be punished by the loss of her tongue?”

At this point the evidence of the lady-in-waiting, von Eyben, was taken, who said that what the Queen had denied to her women she had confessed to her. She found her mistress one day weeping and in great distress, and on asking what was the matter, the Queen told her of the whole affair, confessed that she was guilty, and said that Struensee had advised her to bribe the women, which she refused to do.

Then came the deposition of Professor Berger, now under arrest, who said that, though he had no positive evidence, the intimacy between the Queen and Struensee had appeared to him most suspicious. Struensee behaved towards the Queen with a familiarity that was improper, considering their relative positions.

The evidence of Brandt was also taken. Brandt declared that Struensee had confided to him the intrigue, but his confidence was unnecessary, as every word and look which passed between the Queen and Struensee showed that they were deeply attached to one another. Sometimes they quarrelled, and the Queen was very jealous of Struensee, but they always became reconciled again, and were better friends than before. Struensee’s apartments at Christiansborg, Frederiksberg and Hirschholm were so arranged that he could go from them to the Queen’s rooms unnoticed.

There remained a great deal of servants’ gossip, such as the Queen’s conversations with her women. Thus, for instance, the Queen’s words, that if a woman loved a man, she should follow the object of her devotion to the gallows or the wheel, if need be, or even down to hell itself, were repeated here with additions. One of the maids objected, and said that there were few men worthy of such sacrifices; what was a woman to do if her lover proved unfaithful? The Queen replied that in her case she would either go mad or kill herself. She envied her waiting-women their good fortune in being able to marry whom they would, and said she had been married once against her will, but if she ever had the good fortune to become a widow, she would marry the next time whom she pleased, even if he were a private person, and she had to leave the country and abandon her crown in consequence. The fact that she asked for Struensee, and tried to rush to his room at the time of her arrest, was noted against her; also her tears and lamentations at Kronborg, and the inquiries she had made after him. It was also put in as evidence that she always wore a miniature of Struensee, that she took it with her to Kronborg, and kept it at night under her pillow for fear any one should take it from her. Finally, several presents that the Queen had given Struensee were put in as evidence against her, though they were of no particular value. A great deal was made out of a blue enamelled heart which the Queen had brought with her from England, and afterwards gave to Struensee as the pledge of their friendship. Having duly noted all this and a great deal more, Bang wound up his indictment by demanding a verdict in the name of the King to this effect:—

“That in accordance with the law of Denmark set forth in the sixth section of the third book of the code of Christian V., her Majesty Caroline Matilda shall now be declared guilty of having broken her marriage vow, and that it be forthwith dissolved, so as not to prevent his Majesty the King, if he will, from contracting a new alliance.”

The indictment of Bang was neither very able nor very convincing, and, except for the Queen’s admission of Struensee’s confession, the evidence which he adduced was hardly worthy of credence. It was all of the nature of circumstantial evidence, and there was no direct proof of the Queen’s guilt; on the contrary, it was in her favour that notwithstanding every effort of cajolery, bribery and threat had been employed to procure evidence against the Queen, no better result could be obtained than this hotch-potch of servants’ gossip and vague suppositions. It may be doubted whether any ordinary court of law would pass sentence on such evidence; but the judges of the unfortunate Matilda had been appointed not to execute justice, but to carry out the behests of her enemies. Their minds were already made up as to the verdict before they entered the court. Still, to maintain an appearance of fairness before the world, they announced their willingness to hear the Queen’s defence, and offered no objection when the Queen’s advocate, Uhldahl, requested an adjournment of the court for a week, so that he might have time to submit Bang’s indictment to the Queen, and consult with her concerning the defence to be offered. The court was then adjourned until April 2.

In the interval Uhldahl went to Kronborg, and took with him Bang’s indictment. He had several audiences of the Queen, who was now more mistress of her emotions, and they went through the charges against her point by point. The Queen was moved to indignation at the revelations of the treachery of those whom she had trusted, and she was aghast at the unfairness with which some of her most innocent actions were distorted into proofs of her guilt. Blinded as she had been by her love for Struensee, the Queen now realised for the first time what her conduct must have looked like to the eyes of other people. Still, even admitting her lack of discretion to the fullest extent, a great deal of the evidence submitted against her was both unfair and untrue. Unfortunately, the damning testimony of her own confession remained, and not all her tears could wash out the signature which she had so incautiously written. It was therefore resolved to fall back on the strict letter of the Danish law, which did not permit the confession of an accused person to be put in as evidence, and treated it as null and void. The Queen, it is true, admitted that appearances were against her, but she pleaded that she was not guilty of the worst offence. The intimacy between herself and Struensee had been carried beyond the bounds of discretion and propriety, considering their relative positions, but it was not wicked. For the rest, she threw herself upon the mercy of the King, who in any case would have to confirm the sentence of her judges. The Queen’s forlorn condition, her youth, her tears, her prayers, her evident goodness of heart, moved even her advocate to pity, prejudiced though he was against her, and hired for the purpose of conniving at her destruction. He drew up his defence with her, and threw into the work so much heart that when he left his client it became a very different document to that which he had contemplated at first.

On Uhldahl’s return to Copenhagen the second session was held on April 2, and the advocate then submitted his defence.[52]

“It is with unfeigned emotion that I rise to fulfil the duty which the well-being of the Queen as well as the command of the King have imposed upon me.

“The rank of these exalted personages, the importance and far-reaching consequences of this trial, the intense desire I have to do my duty, and the fear that I may not be able to do it as I wish, add to my anxiety, and justify my regret at seeing the Queen compelled to lay aside her purple, come down from her throne, and, like the meanest of women, seek the protection of the law. Could any more affecting illustration of the insecurity of human happiness possibly be imagined? She in whose veins flows the blood of so many kings is suspected of having dishonoured her illustrious ancestry. She, who gave her lord the King her hand and heart, stands accused by the man who at that time swore to be her protector. She who, when she came among us, by the unanimous verdict of the nation, was regarded as the mother of her people, is now tried by the men who in that day would have shed their blood in her defence. Thus unhappy is Queen Caroline Matilda, and she alone among all the queens of Denmark. In the bloom of her youth, and dowered with every gift to ensure happiness, she finds herself to-day standing on the brink of an abyss, down which her honour, her dignity, her peace of mind, may be cast. In one day she may lose her husband, her children and her throne, and yet be compelled to survive the loss. Suspected, accused, in danger of living a life of wretchedness for long years to come—can anything be more heart-rending than her position? Thus the Queen regards her situation, and thus she depicted it to me when I had the honour of waiting upon her, in the following words:—

“‘I should utterly despair had not my intentions been always for the welfare of the King and the country. If I have possibly acted incautiously, my youth, my sex and my rank must plead in my favour. I never believed myself exposed to suspicion, and, even though my confession appears to confirm my guilt, I know myself to be perfectly innocent. I understand that the law requires me to be tried: my consort has granted me this much; I hope he will also, through the mouth of his judges, acknowledge that I have not made myself unworthy of him.’

“I repeat her Majesty’s words exactly as she uttered them. How I wish that I could reproduce the emotion with which they were spoken—the frankness that carried conviction, the trembling voice which pleaded for pity! This last, indeed, no one can refuse her without outraging every sentiment of humanity.

“Chief among the charges brought against the Queen is that she has been false to the vows and duties imposed upon her by her marriage with the King her husband. It has been well urged that the King’s bed must remain unsullied in the interests of his own honour, and the honour and prosperity of his country. These truths all will admit, but they are so far from affecting the Queen that she demands the strictest investigation; she believes that she has not acted contrary to them. The more exalted her duties, the more exacting her obligations, the more terrible are the consequences of any infraction of them. The more familiar the two parties were, the clearer must be the evidence that the Queen has really committed a sin. How will the honour of the King and his royal family be better promoted—by proving the Queen guilty, or by showing her innocence? Has the Queen never known and fulfilled what she owed to herself, her husband and his people? Is it not admitted that, up to the time, at all events, when the accusations begin, she had proved herself a tender mother, an affectionate wife, and a worthy Queen? Can it be credited that her Majesty could so easily have forgotten herself? Can it be that she, who up to that day sought delight in modesty, virtue, respect of the King, and affection of the country, banished all these noble feelings from her heart in a single moment?

“Advocate Bang in the King’s name submitted three varieties of proofs against the Queen—Count Struensee’s confession, her Majesty’s statement, and (as he knew that neither of these was sufficient) the evidence of witnesses.

“Undoubtedly Count Struensee on February 21 and 24, as the documents show, made statements of the most insulting nature against her Majesty. He forgot the reverence due to his Queen, and through unfounded alarm, or confusion of mind, or the hope of saving himself by implicating the Queen in his affair, or for other reasons, he made these absurd allegations, which can only injure himself. For what belief can be given to the statement that he, if the Queen thought him worthy of her confidence, should have been so daring as to abuse it in so scandalous a manner, or that the Queen would have tolerated it? The honour of a private person, much more that of a queen, could not be affected by such a statement. And how improbable it is that such a state of affairs should have gone on at court for two whole years under the nose of the King, and under the eyes of so many spies. The accusation is made by a prisoner not on his oath, and is utterly destitute of probability.

“Advocate Bang admits that Count Struensee’s declaration is in itself no evidence against the Queen. Hence he tries to confirm it, partly by the acknowledgment which the Queen made on March 9 as to the correctness of Struensee’s declaration, partly through her admission that she had broken her marriage vows, and hence lost her marriage rights. This he wishes to be regarded as proof. Certainly, in all civil causes confession is the most complete form of proof, but in criminal actions, and those such as we are now trying, the law of Denmark utterly rejects this evidence when it says: ‘It is not sufficient that the accused person should herself confess it, but the accuser must legally bring the accused before the court, and properly prove the offence’.

“Other proofs therefore are necessary, and since it is the King’s wish that the law should be strictly followed in this action, and judgment be founded on the evidence submitted, it follows that the Queen must have a claim to this benefit as much as the meanest of her subjects....[53]

“I now pass to the third class of proofs, which consist of the evidence of persons summoned by the prosecution as witnesses. Her Majesty has commanded me to declare that she does not desire them to be recalled and examined by me, but I have her commands to investigate the nature of this evidence, and what it goes to prove.

“It is worthy of note that not one of the witnesses examined alleges any other foundation for his, or her, first suspicion against the Queen than common gossip [‘town-scandal’] which they had heard. It was not until this gossip became universal that it was mentioned to the Queen. As most of the witnesses were constantly about the Queen’s person, and yet found no reason for believing anything wrong in her intercourse with Struensee, it is clear that the conduct of the Queen must have been irreproachable up to this time. Every one knows that rumour is a lying jade; scandal is often founded on nothing, and through its propagation alone acquires credibility. But however false the slander may be, it leaves behind it, after once being uttered, a suspicion, which places the conduct of the person slandered in a new and different light. Words and actions before regarded as innocent are henceforth seriously weighed, and if anything equivocal is detected, the slander is regarded as confirmed. Thus it is with the witnesses in this case, for though, prior to hearing the rumour, they did not suspect the Queen, no sooner had they heard it than they imagined evidence against her at every point.”

Uhldahl then proceeded to subject the evidence of the witnesses to analysis, with a view of showing how contradictory and worthless most of it was.

Summing up all this testimony, Uhldahl said: “If we now ask if there are any facts in the evidence of the witnesses to prove that an extreme and improper intimacy existed between the Queen and Struensee, the answer must be: ‘There are none.’ That the Queen showed the Count marks of favour and confidence cannot be denied, but no one ever saw or heard that these went beyond the limits of honour. No witness is able to say positively that the Queen has broken the vows she made to her consort, nor can any adduce a single fact which would prove the certainty of her guilt. Indeed, one of the witnesses on whom the prosecution most relies, the maid Bruhn, is constrained to admit ‘that she never witnessed any impropriety on the part of the Queen’. Regarded generally, all the witnesses appeal to their own suppositions. They say they thought that Struensee was a long time with the Queen, because they were not summoned: they imagined that the Queen and Struensee were guilty because they were on familiar terms. But these conjectures had their origin in rumour, and in the power which rumour possesses to stimulate the imagination. It is chiefly the favour shown by her Majesty to Count Struensee that roused the suspicions of witnesses, and caused them to draw such conclusions. It is said that he was constantly about the Queen, and in her company. But was he not also about the King? And must not the Queen’s confidence in him necessarily result from the confidence with which the King honoured him? As her justification of this, the Queen appeals to her consort’s action, and points to the striking proofs of the King’s favour to Struensee—the offices with which the King entrusted him, and the rank to which the King raised him. There can be no doubt that he sought to acquire the Queen’s confidence in the same way as he had gained the King’s. The loyalty which he always showed to the King, the attention he paid to the Queen when she was ill, the devotion which he seemed to entertain for them both, maintained an uninterrupted harmony between their Majesties. Above all else, the King’s will was law to the Queen, and this above all else made her believe that she could freely give Struensee her confidence without danger. His offices as Secretary to the Queen, and Privy Cabinet Minister to the King, required his constant presence. Hence it is not surprising that he acquired a greater share of the Queen’s favour than any other man....

“I pass over all the rest of the evidence as things which are partly unimportant, partly irrelevant, or too improper to be answered. It is sufficient to say that no proof that her Majesty has broken her marriage vow can be derived from any of these witnesses, if we examine their evidence singly. The law requires the truthful evidence of witnesses, not all kinds of self-invented conclusions. If it were otherwise, her Majesty’s rank and dignity, which ought to shield her from such danger, would be the very things to cause her ruin.

“I hope that I have now proved the innocence of the Queen. Her Majesty assumes that her consort only desires her justification, and she feels assured of the discretion and impartiality of her judges. Therefore she awaits confidently the decision demanded by her honour, the King’s dignity, and the welfare of the land. I venture in her Majesty’s name to submit—

“That her Majesty Queen Caroline Matilda be acquitted from his Majesty the King’s accusation in this matter.”

Uhldahl’s defence was clever and ingenious, but it lacked the stamp of sincerity which carries conviction. His omission to cross-examine the witnesses, though he ascribes this to the wish of the Queen (who could have had no voice in the matter, and was entirely in the hands of her counsel), was the course probably dictated by her enemies. If these witnesses had been taken singly, and subjected to a searching cross-examination, they would probably have contradicted each other, and broken down one by one. Moreover, Uhldahl was fighting for the Queen with one arm tied behind his back. In any divorce court, if a husband petitions against his wife, his conduct, as well as hers, is liable to investigation, and if it can be shown that he is as guilty, or guiltier, than she, or that he has connived at her indiscretion, his petition falls to the ground. But this line of defence was forbidden to Uhldahl: he dared not say a word against the King, though he could have shown that the King had from the first been guilty of the grossest infidelity and cruelty towards his Queen—that he had outraged her every sentiment of religion and virtue, that he had often told her to do as she pleased, that he had repeatedly thrust temptation in her way, and when at last she yielded, or seemed to yield, to it, he had not only acquiesced in this condition of things, but at first, at any rate, actively encouraged and abetted it. These facts—and they were all of them notorious, and perfectly well known to the Queen’s judges and accusers—were not allowed to be pleaded in her favour.

Reverdil, who had an intimate knowledge of the facts, who had been with the King when Matilda first came to Denmark, who had been dismissed from court because he protested against the insults heaped upon her, who had been recalled three years later, when the intimacy between the Queen and Struensee was at its height, and who, much though he pitied her, believed her to be guilty, has supplied the arguments in her favour which were omitted by Uhldahl. He thus arraigns the King:—

“Is it not true, Sir, that from the very day of your marriage up to the moment when the faction, now dominant, seized on you and your ministers some weeks ago, you had not the slightest regard for the marriage tie, and all this time you had declared to the Queen that you dispensed with her fidelity? Have you not invited all your successive favourites to tempt her? [a lui faire la cour]. Have you not said and proved in a thousand ways that her affection was wearisome to you, and that your greatest misery was to perform your duties to her? Your commissioners have had the effrontery to ask the Queen and Struensee who were their accomplices. In prison and in irons the accused have had the generosity to be silent for your sake; but what they have not done your conscience itself must do, and proclaim to you that you have been her real seducer.

“Do you remember, Sir, the moment when this Princess, whom they wish to make you condemn to-day, was confided to your love and generosity? The English sent her without any adviser, without a single companion to your shores. Little more than a child, she had all the grace, the innocence and the naÏvetÉ of childhood, while her mind was more enlightened and mature than you could have expected; you were astonished at it. All hearts went out to meet her; her affability and kindness captivated all classes of the nation. When you were wicked enough to give yourself up to a frivolous and reckless favourite [Holck], and to vile companions who led you into libertinism, she found herself neglected, and you showed yourself more than indifferent to her. She loved you; she was silent, and maintained her serenity in public; she only wept in private with her chief lady [Madame de Plessen], whom you, yourself, had appointed as her confidante. Before long you grudged her even this poor consolation, and the lady, whose only crime was that her conduct and principles were too correct for your taste, was dismissed with the most signal marks of disgrace. Madame von der LÜhe, who took her place, was the sister of your favourite. No doubt you supposed that this lady would show as much levity, and have as few principles, as her brother; but she disappointed your expectations. Therefore, without actually disgracing her, you replaced her by ladies whose reputation was the most equivocal in the kingdom. What more could the most consummate corrupter have done? This very man, with whom the Queen is accused for having shown weakness, you, yourself, forced upon her after she had first repulsed him. It was in the hope of avoiding the tracasseries with which your favourites annoyed her that she was at last induced to lier herself with the man who offered his services to bring you nearer her. It was you who broke down all the barriers which separated her from him, who diminished the distance between them, who desired to bring about what to-day is called your ‘dishonour,’ who excused, nay, tolerated, this liaison, and who, up to January 17 last, even talked of it as a good joke.

“Your cause is inseparable from that of your wife, and even though the whole world should condemn her, you ought, if not from natural equity, at least from self-respect, to revoke that condemnation.”[54]

Uhldahl made his defence on April 2. The court then adjourned, and after taking four days to consider the verdict, delivered judgment. The verdict was to the effect that Queen Matilda had been found guilty of having broken her marriage vow, and the marriage between her and King Christian VII. was therefore dissolved, and the King was free to make another alliance, if it should seem good to him. The Queen’s sentence would depend upon the King’s pleasure. The court at the same time declared that the Princess Louise Augusta was legitimate, and was entitled to all the honours due to the daughter of the King. Thus the verdict was contradictory, for if the Queen were guilty with Struensee, it followed almost surely (though not necessarily for certain) that the Princess was not legitimate, for the intimacy between the Queen and Struensee was declared by the evidence, upon which the judges pretended to found their verdict, to have begun more than a year before the birth of the Princess, and to have gone on continuously ever since.

The exact reasons which led to this extraordinary verdict being promulgated will probably never be known, but during the four days that elapsed between Uhldahl’s defence and the judgment, violent disputes and intrigues were being waged at the Christiansborg Palace. According to some, the Queen-Dowager not only fiercely insisted upon the divorce, but also the bastardising of both the Queen’s children (though why the Crown Prince it is difficult to say), and so making way for the succession of her son to the throne, but was prevented from having her way by the remonstrances of Guldberg. According to others, it was Rantzau and Osten who wished these drastic measures, and Juliana Maria who interposed on behalf of the Queen’s children. Be this as it may, it is certain that Matilda’s enemies were divided in their opinions; and even at this early hour there seems to have been a slight reaction in favour of the young Queen. The situation was also complicated by the interference of Keith, who, though he had received no instructions to prevent the divorce of the Queen, yet, now that the trial was over, and had shown itself to be manifestly unfair, entered vigorous protests on behalf of the King of England’s sister—protests which he backed by menaces. Several of the Queen-Dowager’s advisers took fright; perhaps, too, they had some secret pity for the young Queen, for they urged that it was not wise to enrage the King of England too far. The result was a compromise: the Queen was declared to be guilty, but her daughter was declared to be legitimate.

Doubtless in consequence of the remonstrances of the English envoy, the proceedings of the court were kept secret, and the sentence of divorce was not published—at least, not through the medium of the press. But a royal rescript was sent to the governors of the provinces and the viceroy of the duchies, in which the King stated that he had repudiated his Queen after a solemn inquiry, in order to vindicate the honour of his house, and from motives of public welfare. The verdict was also communicated to the foreign envoys for transmission to their various courts. This was done in a theatrical manner. The court assumed mourning, and the corps diplomatique were summoned to the Christiansborg Palace and proceeded thither, also in mourning. But the King did not appear. The Grand Chamberlain of the court announced to them the verdict, and said that the King had no longer a consort, and there was no longer a Queen. At the same time an order was issued to omit the Queen’s name from the public prayers. Henceforth she was to be considered as dead in law.

Uhldahl saw the Queen the day after the decision of the court, and told her of the judgment. According to him she merely answered: “I thought as much. But what will become of Struensee?” And when he replied that Struensee would certainly be sentenced to death, “she cried and shook all over”. She bewailed the fact that it was she who was the cause of his misfortunes. “The Queen would have sacrificed everything to save him; she thought nothing of herself.” Despite his base confession, which she was forced at last to believe he had made, she forgave him everything. Several times she bade Uhldahl to tell Struensee that she forgave him. “When you see him,” she said, “tell him that I am not angry with him for the wrong he has done me.”[55] Her love was boundless.

The unfortunate Matilda was formally acquainted with the sentence of divorce on April 9, when Baron Juell-Wind, one of her judges, went to Kronborg by order of the Council of State, and read to the Queen the verdict of the court in the presence of the commandant of Kronborg. The Queen, who had been prepared by Uhldahl, heard the sentence without emotion, but was greatly distressed at the thought that it might involve separation from her child. She did not ask, and did not seem to care, what her fate would be, but she was informed that it would depend upon the King’s pleasure.

Her punishment indeed was still under debate, and was being discussed as hotly at the Christiansborg Palace as the verdict of divorce had been. The Queen had been unfaithful to the King’s bed; therefore she had been found guilty of high treason; therefore, urged some, she was worthy of death. The other alternative was perpetual imprisonment, and this seems to have been seriously considered, for the preparations at the fortress of Aalborg—a storm-beaten town at the extreme edge of Jutland—were pushed on with all speed. In theory, the last three months Matilda had been residing at one of her husband’s country palaces, for Kronborg was a royal palace as well as a fortress; she was now to be stripped of every appurtenance of her rank, and sent to Aalborg. Once there she would probably have died mysteriously.

But Keith, who had interfered to prevent the Queen from being publicly disgraced, now interfered again, with even more determination, to mitigate her punishment. He could not prevent the divorce, but he could prevent the punishment. The King, the Grand Chamberlain had informed the foreign ministers, had no longer a consort; Denmark had no longer a Queen; Matilda was dead in law. This declaration gave Keith his opportunity. Though, he argued, it might please the King of Denmark to declare that Matilda was no longer his wife or his queen, it must be remembered that she was still a princess of Great Britain, and the sister of the King of England. Since the King, her consort, had repudiated her, it followed that the King, her brother, became her guardian, and her interests and future welfare were his care. By the sentence of divorce she had passed entirely out of the jurisdiction of Denmark to that of her native country; she became an English subject, and as an English subject was free as air. Osten shuffled and changed his ground from day to day, but Keith became more and more insistent, and his tone grew more and more menacing. He sent home the most urgent despatches, describing the unfairness of the Queen’s trial, and the danger she was in through the malice of her enemies. In default of particular instructions, he could do nothing but threaten in general terms; but his intervention secured a respite. The Queen remained at Kronborg; her punishment was still undecided, and her fate uncertain.