WHAT THEY SAID IN ENGLAND.
COLONEL KEITH--BAD NEWS FROM COPENHAGEN--DEATH OF THE PRINCESS OF
WALES--THE PUBLIC PRESS--JUNIUS'S LETTER--ATTICUS--A FOUL LIBEL--THE
EARL OF BUTE DENOUNCED--ANOTHER APPEAL FOR THE QUEEN--THE STATE OF
PUBLIC OPINION--THE APPROACHING TRIAL.
So soon as the _coup d'état_ was an accomplished fact, Colonel Keith,
the British envoy, lost not a moment in acting on behalf of the sister
of his monarch. Dark rumours were afloat that a family council had
been held to decide the fate of the queen; and it was even said that
proposals to execute her at once were entertained. Colonel Keith,
under these circumstances, forced his way into the Christiansborg, and
denounced war against Denmark if a hair of her head were touched. This
done, he despatched a messenger forthwith to England, and immediately
locked himself and his household up until the answer should arrive.
What the nature of Keith's despatch was it is impossible to tell till
the Foreign Office shall give up its dead, by repealing the absurd
regulation that no state papers may be inspected after the year 1760.
For the present, therefore, I am only able to inform my readers of what
the public journals of the day said, and that is naturally rather in
the shape of surmise than fact.
As early as January 23, the _General Evening Post_ spread an uneasy
feeling by the following portentous paragraph:--"It is affirmed by
letters from the Continent that a royal princess is certainly detained
in a tower inaccessible to every creature except such as are appointed
to attend her, but that an absolute silence is imposed throughout the
kingdom on this subject." On January 26, the journalist being unable to
offer more precise information, and yet unwilling to let the subject
drop, keeps it alive by a paragraph to the following effect:--
"So exceedingly cautious are foreign states when they marry a daughter
of England not to let an English woman attend the princess into their
territories, for fear of her having too much influence over the mind of
her royal mistress, that when the Queen of Denmark was sent over to her
illustrious consort, she had only one bed-chamber woman in her suite as
far as Altona, and even this one was sent back on her arrival at that
place, that the Danish ladies only might have the ear of her Majesty."
On January 29, just as the king was about to hold a levee, an express
arrived from Copenhagen, bearing the news. It threw the royal family,
we are told, into the profoundest affliction; his Majesty seemed
deeply affected by the news; and the queen and the Princess of
Brunswick were observed to shed tears. But there was another member
of the royal family whom the news would afflict even more: the mother
of Caroline Matilda, who, as we have seen, felt persuaded that her
daughter had been guilty of gross indiscretion, and who, in the
previous year, had attempted to turn her from a course which her own
experience of court intrigues told her must end in ruin.
The Princess Dowager of Wales was at this time dangerously ill with
a throat complaint, and it was therefore proposed to George III.
that this new misfortune should be concealed from her. But the king
answered, incautiously, "My mother _will_ know everything, and,
therefore, it is better that I should break it to her by degrees." He
therefore went to her directly, suddenly forbidding his levee just half
an hour before it was going to begin, and thus was the first to publish
the disgrace of his sister. Walpole, who is our authority for the
above,[56] adds, in a strain of reflection unusual with him:--
"Such an accumulated succession of mortifications has rarely fallen on
a royal family in so short a space. They seemed to have inherited the
unpropitious star of the Stuarts, from whom they are descended, as well
as their crown. The marriage of the Duke of Cumberland with Colonel
Luttrell's sister, the dangerous illness of the Princess of Wales and
the Duke of Gloucester, and the dishonour of the Queen of Denmark: all
happening within three months."
We are told--though let us hope that it was only the floating gossip
of the day--that the princess dowager, on receiving the fatal news
from the Continent, prayed most fervently for her speedy dissolution;
declaring that the world could not be more weary of her than she was of
the world, and desiring her attendants never to mention the name of a
"certain princess" in her presence.
For the next few days the newspapers necessarily contained only what
information could be picked up at the coffee-houses. Thus we find that
it was generally believed that the worst part of the news from Denmark
was not yet published, and, therefore, all was suspense, doubt, and
anxiety, among the constant visitors at St. James's. The politicians at
the new Lloyd's Coffee-house very busily engaged in speculative bets
upon a war with Denmark; but considerate people imagined that Lord
North was much too wise to engage offensively against any power merely
on account of a family _faux-pas_, especially when the conduct of the
person to be supported was indefensible.
The natural inclination to think ill of one's neighbour was only
heightened at this time through the profound secrecy maintained by the
government. Still, it is gratifying to find some writers at this early
period calling for the assistance of a fleet to vindicate, rather than
the voice of the British nation to condemn, the Queen of Denmark; and
further on in the same article Caroline Matilda is spoken of as the
"Royal Innocent."
Early in February, a long letter appeared in the _General Evening
Post_, calling attention to the whole affair in very powerful language.
The writer, after urging the nation not to decide on _ex parte_
statements, proceeds to defend Caroline Matilda in the following warm
terms:--
"Recollect the manner in which that lady was educated, and that, when
delivered into the hands of her husband, she was in full possession of
every virtue. All the graces were in her: she knew nothing but what was
good. Can it then, with any degree of reason, be concluded that in so
short a time the lady could forget every virtuous precept, and abandon
herself to infamy? My dear countrymen, it cannot be; and until we have
a certainty of guilt, believe it not, though an angel from Copenhagen
should affirm it. It was but the other day we were told of certain
regulations which had taken place, and are for the advantage of that
kingdom, and which were wholly attributed to the counsel of that lady.
Alas! there is too much reason to fear that her exalted character,
justly acquired with the populace, has produced in those of rank--envy,
hatred, confusion, and ruin."
The writer, who like most of his countrymen appears to have been in
a state of blessed ignorance about the affairs of foreign courts,
then bursts into a furious and quite irrelevant diatribe on poor Baron
Schimmelmann, whom he supposes to be the prime minister of Denmark.
After giving a concise account of that gentleman's chequered career,
and displaying an amount of malice in raking up dirty things which
makes one believe that C. P. owed Schimmelmann grudge, he vents his
bile in the following words, which certainly contain some truth:--
"It is wickedly asserted that the monarch's (Christian VII.) illness is
attributed to some medicines given him by his physician, &c. The truth
is, that you ought rather to wonder that his Majesty is now alive, than
that he is afflicted with nervous and paralytic disorders. My eyes were
witness to the manner and excess of his living when he was at Altona.
I could say a great deal, but it does not become me. I shall only say
this one thing, which is an indisputable truth: that many who then saw
his Majesty, concluded from his delicate constitution that it could
not hold long, and execrated our baron for his introducing him to,
and encouraging him in, the most destructive vices. Therefore, if any
disorder affects the head of his Majesty, may it not be more justly
attributed to such excess than to the queen, who was educated in the
fear of God?"
The illness of the princess dowager prevented George III. from taking
any decided action on behalf of his sister. On the morning of February
8 the princess departed this life. On the previous evening her
physician felt her pulse, and told her it was more regular than it
had been for some time; her Highness answered, "Yes, and I think I
shall have a good night's rest." She then embraced the king, and he
observed nothing particular in her except that she kissed him with
greater warmth and affection than usual. The king afterwards retired
to a private room with the physician, who told him that her Highness
could not outlive the morning, which determined his Majesty on staying
at Carlton House all night. He did not see his royal mother any more
till she was dead, for she remained very quiet all the night, and gave
no token of death, till a few minutes before she expired, when she
laid her hand upon her heart and went off without a groan. His Majesty
was then informed, and he came in and took his mother's hand, kissed
it, and burst into tears; a short time after which he returned to St.
James's.[57]
There is but little to add to the character of this princess than that
communicated in the opening chapter. When she was gone to a state far
superior to mortal praise or blame, where the lying voice of calumny
and faction could not reach her, people began to discover that "never
was a more amiable, a more innocent, or a more benevolent princess."
It was publicly denied that she had interfered in the politics of the
country, or influenced the king in affairs of state. She discharged,
to the utmost of her power and out of her own income, the large
private debts of her husband. Her charity was extensive; and it was
stated that she gave away upwards of £10,000 a year, and that so
secretly, that the recipients of her bounty would only learn who their
benefactress was through the cessation of her charities. Hence it is
not surprising that she made no will, for she had nothing to leave.
Though the Princess of Wales constantly read all the public papers till
within a few weeks of her death, the unmerited abuse with which they
teemed never excited in her the least emotion of anger or resentment;
nor was she ever heard to speak disparagingly of any individual. She
was steady in her friendships, and so indulgent a mistress to her
servants, that she was ever anxious to give them as little trouble
as possible. Her understanding was clear and solid; her temper even,
serene, and placid, and her religion real and unaffected, which enabled
her to meet death with a truly Christian resignation. To the very last
minute of her life she was sensible and composed, and gave apparent
signs of satisfaction at the truly filial concern which the royal
pair displayed, and the great attention they paid her in her last
extremity. A writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ sums up the character
of the Princess of Wales so fairly, that I am tempted to extract the
concluding passage:--
"In her royal highness we have a striking instance of the instability
of human happiness. Many now alive can remember her the happiest of
wives and mothers, and universally beloved, as our good queen now is.
She was for many years the very idol of the people of England; and,
without any blame on her part, she has been publicly and repeatedly
traduced beyond all example. She has long been bereaved of the best
of husbands: (?) has outlived several of her children, and has had
the recent mortification of seeing one marry indiscreetly, another
languishing under a dangerous illness, and a third a prisoner in a
distant kingdom. Overwhelmed with these accumulated misfortunes, and
struggling with bodily distempers, Heaven, as a reward for her pure
and virtuous conduct in every relation in life, has graciously and
seasonably delivered her from the sorrows of this mortal state to the
mansions of endless felicity, where the wicked cease from troubling,
and the weary are at rest."
One of the most unfortunate results of the death of the Princess of
Wales in this crisis of affairs was, that the crafty Von der Osten had
time to persuade the King of England that this affair was not one of
those which ought to be treated by ministers as between nations; that
it was personal; that his brother, the King of Denmark, would write to
him in his own hand, and that his Britannic Majesty should reply in the
same way. George III., who was so honest as to believe everybody, fell
into the trap so artfully laid for him.
On February 28, Lord Suffolk, the foreign secretary, sent despatches to
Colonel Keith, adding to them a personal letter, in which he expressed
the king's satisfaction at the ability, spirit, and dignity the envoy
had displayed, and enclosing the Order of the Bath as a reward. From
Danish accounts I learn that George III. replied to Christian's letter,
that what had happened grieved him deeply, but he hoped that justice
would be observed, and every possible indulgence shown.
With this letter Sir R. M. Keith proceeded to demand a private
audience of the King of Denmark, and a day being appointed for the
purpose, the envoy, on entering the ante-chamber, was much surprised
at seeing, instead of the king, some members of the council of state,
who intimated to him that his Majesty, not being very well, had charged
them to receive what the envoy had to communicate, and they would
inform him of it. Sir R. Keith replied, that the orders he had received
from his master were to speak to the king in person, and not to his
ministers; and that he was not a little surprised that after his Danish
Majesty had consented to give him the audience he requested, he should
refer him to his ministers. He then added, that he should not fail to
inform his royal master of what had occurred, and retired extremely
dissatisfied. As he went, Sir Robert fired a parting shot, to the
effect that if the Queen of Denmark was not treated with the respect
due to her birth and rank, the king, his master, would not fail to
resent it.
Keith, doubtless, informed George III. of the results of this
interview, and opened his eyes as to the jugglery that had been
practised. Consequently, subsequent despatches from England assumed a
more earnest character, and, finally, even contained menaces. At the
same time, however, George III. remained true to his word, and said
that he would not interfere in the matter, so far as it affected the
marriage of Christian VII. with his sister. Hence he consented to the
arrest of the queen and her long imprisonment during the trial, but
refused to sanction any further or life imprisonment of the accused
princess.
There is but little to be learnt from the English papers as to the
progress of the negociations. It would appear as if Baron Dieden, the
Danish envoy at St. James's, was left without instructions for a time,
as he shut himself up in his house till he received commands as to his
future conduct. Perhaps fear had something to do in the matter, for
Reverdil, who was then in London, states that an anonymous letter was
sent the envoy, to the effect that he must answer personally for the
safety of the queen. When Dieden finally made his appearance at court,
George III. would not speak to him, and the minister took his revenge
by standing out of the circle, and laughing impertinently at the king
to the Prussian minister.[58]
In the absence of settled news, the gentry, who occupied themselves
with writing letters to the papers, had a splendid time of it. The ball
was opened by that three-decker Junius, who discharged a double-shotted
battery into Lord North. After the usual denunciations of the minister,
which the latter probably regarded with his usual pachydermatous
indifference, Junius proceeds as follows:--
"An insignificant northern potentate is honoured by a matrimonial
alliance with the King of England's sister. A confused rumour prevails
that she has been false to his bed: the tale spreads, a particular man
is pointed at as the object of her licentious affections. Our hopeful
ministry, however, are quite silent: despatches, indeed, are sent off
to Copenhagen, but the contents of those despatches are so profound
a secret, that with me it almost amounts to a question, whether you
yourself know anything of the matter."
After giving a far from flattering description of the remaining members
of the cabinet, Junius adds an argument, which certainly is forcible:--
"In private life the honour of a sister is deemed an affair of infinite
consequence to a brother. A man of sentiment is anxious to convince
his friends and neighbours that the breath of slander has traduced her
virtue: and he seizes with avidity every extenuating circumstance that
can contribute to alleviate her offence or demonstrate her innocence,
beyond the possibility of cavil.
"Is our pious Majesty cast in a different mould from one of his people?
or is he taught to believe that the opinion of his subjects has no
manner of relation to his own felicity? Are you, my lord, quite devoid
of feeling? Have you no warm blood that flows round your heart, that
gives your frame a thrilling soft sensation, and makes your bosom
flow with affections ornamental to man as a social creation? For
shame, my lord, however wrong you act, you must know better; you must
be conscious that the people have a right to be informed of every
transaction which concerns the welfare of the state. They are part of
a mighty empire, which flourishes only as their happiness is promoted;
they have a kind of claim in every person belonging to the royal
lineage. How, then, can they possibly remain neuter, and see their
princess imprisoned by a banditti of northern Vandals?"
After an historical survey of Denmark, not particularly pertinent,
Junius informs us that:--
"There is a barbarous ferocity which still clings to the inhabitants
of the north, and renders their government subject to perpetual
convulsions; but the Danes, I fancy, will be found the only people
in our times who have dared to proceed to extremities that alarm all
Europe, nay, dared to imprison an English princess, without giving even
the shadow of a public reason for their conduct."
After an allusion to the conduct of the Empress Catharine in justifying
the murder of her husband, Junius concludes with one of his most
impassioned declamations against the sluggish minister, who is so
careless of British honour:--
"The present Machiavellian Dowager Julia may send the young queen's
soul to Heaven in a night, and through the shameful remissness of you,
Lord North, as prime minister of this unhappy country, the public may
remain ignorant of every circumstance relative to the murder. Be not,
however, deceived: the blood of our sovereign's sister shall not be
suffered to cry in vain for vengeance: it _shall_ be heard; it _shall_
be revenged; and what is still more, it shall besprinkle Lord North,
and thus affix a stigma on his forehead, which shall make him wander
like another Cain, accursed through the world."[59]
This vigorous appeal for Caroline Matilda was followed shortly after
by a temperate letter in the _Public Advertiser_, signed Q. Q. This
writer has the merit of seeing further through a millstone than his
fellows. He was of opinion that the Danish revolution, far from being
general, was merely the effect of a court faction, and that a squadron
of British ships sent to Copenhagen would "inspire the queen's friends
with confidence and courage, and will check and dispirit those who
are her opponents, so that she may either expect to have her conduct
cleared up by a fair and impartial trial, or, if it is thought an
indignity to submit to that, she may at once be restored to that rank
and authority which I am well persuaded she never deserved to lose."
It must not be supposed, however, that Caroline Matilda's defenders
were allowed to have it all their own way. A fellow, writing under
the name of ATTICUS, befouled the columns of the _Public Advertiser_
with one of the most scandalous libels on an unoffending woman which
ever appeared in those unhappy days, when liberty was confounded with
licence of the press.
According to this worthy, the Earl of Bute advised the war with
Denmark, and Lord Sandwich seconded him in the hope of increasing his
income at the Admiralty. Lord North, "perplexed lest he may on the one
hand be deserted by a perfidious master in the midst of the tempest,
or, on the other hand, lose the favourite's influence, therefore,
temporises, flatters, and procrastinates."
After defending the queen dowager from the charges brought against her
and alleging the notorious intimacy of the queen and Struensee, Atticus
draws the following inference:--
"I will refer the conclusion (of the intimacy) to those best
acquainted with women, whether it ever so happens that they surrender
power, confer honours, and resign up all reputation to any man who had
not made a _deep impression_? I am a married man, have a very good kind
of dame at my table, and am not at present disturbed with jealousy: but
were I to see my wife fond of another man's company, solicitous to do
him partial honours, and impatient for his increasing glory, happiness,
and renown, and prefer his interest to mine, it would to me be a more
certain proof of her criminality than is commonly produced in cases of
divorce."
After a lengthened account of Struensee's elevation and fall, not more
incorrect than the majority of the fables current at the time, Atticus
takes up the common but generally successful radical trick of imputing
motives to political opponents.
"The day was fixed, _a favourite fell_. Methinks I hear the Earl
of Bute whisper to his poor affrighted soul, and every corner of
his hiding-places murmur with these expressions: God bless us! a
known and established favourite ruined in a single night, by a
near neighbour--the frenzy may reach this country and I am undone.
Englishmen, too, are haters of favourites and Scotchmen; these old,
rascally, Whig families, whose power and virtue seem almost lost, may
reunite. In the meantime I must do something--a lucky thought occurs
to me: I'll fill the minds of the people with prejudices against those
haughty Danes. Bradshaw and Dyson shall bribe the printers to suppress
any contradictory reports; Englishmen are always ready to vindicate
injured virtue at any expense. Therefore, nothing shall be heard _but
the honour of the king's sister_. I know the queen-mother was ignorant
of the matter till the deed was done; but I will have her represented
as an intriguing old Brimstone. It will go down, because the late
dowager here must have prejudiced them against all queen-mothers. By
the ghost of Charles, I'll make war against those rascally burghers,
which will completely answer my purpose. I will divert the ministers
of the two people, weaken the two Protestant states, make room for my
namesake, and restore favouritism."
Such were the arguments of a member of the peace-at-any-price-party in
1772. They certainly display a coarse cleverness befitting a demagogue,
and doubtless represented the feelings of a considerable section of
deluded Englishmen at the time. Let us hope that none of his readers,
however, shared the sentiments expressed in the following odious
passage:--
"Be assured, my dear countrymen, the queen's supposed inconstancy
was in no part the cause of the late revolution in Denmark. Had she
committed adultery in the streets, but preserved decency in matters of
state, she might now be at liberty, and in that round of amusements.
The patriots of Denmark do not make adultery an article of grievances;
and if they did, she has been the betrothed of a sovereign prince; she
is his lawful wife, subject to the laws of that country. Her brother
made no settlement of exclusive power--either for her as a wife or a
queen; at least, his pious nature must have forbidden the declared
right of ----dom. I wish George III. had entertained the same ideas as
did his grandfather, with respect to the slippery tricks of his family;
who, in his letter to the Prince Ferdinand, near the close of the late
war, concludes with these words: 'Let me advise you to be more careful
of your person--your reputation is established, for though our family
has produced many ----s, it never produced a poltroon.'"[60]
An anonymous writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ stepped forward
at once to meet the doughty ATTICUS in the field, and it is to
be regretted that his armour was not stronger. He pleads _in
misericordiam_ for Caroline Matilda, appealing to her birth, education,
and former behaviour, and concludes with the opinion that a squadron
will be the best way of cutting the legal knot. Atticus speedily
returned to the charge, but without his former vigour, except, perhaps,
when he argues that persons who accept crowns must put up with the
inconveniences connected with them. When George III. gave his sister
to Christian VII. in marriage, both were aware that Caroline Matilda
was to become obedient to the will of an almost unlimited monarch.
"The event should teach them both the superior excellency of a limited
monarchy and the inestimable value of its laws." Atticus winds up by
saying, that if the vengeance and power of England were to be exerted
against any prince who married into the British royal family, no matter
what his wife's conduct might be, the princesses would soon go begging
for husbands.
Such were the arguments employed by our grandfathers when they talked
over the fate of the Queen of Denmark. I fear, though, that the tide
gradually turned against her, and that this was, in a great measure,
owing to the mystery kept up about the affair. Lord North, when
pressed in his parliamentary intrenchments, contented himself with
answering, "with his natural air of frankness," says Reverdil, who
was in London at the time, "that unless expressly ordered to do so by
the House, he would not reveal so delicate an affair; that time would
discover everything and justify the ministry." Ninety years have since
elapsed, but the justification has not been published. All we know for
certain is, that an innocent woman's character was blackened by the
unwise conduct of those to whom she had a natural right to look for
protection. We know, too, that she was allowed to remain in prison for
upwards of four months, awaiting the result of a trial which ought
never to have taken place.
These considerations, however, should be deferred until I have given
all the details connected with this extraordinary trial. In doing
so, I shall, fortunately, be enabled to produce documents which have
not hitherto been laid before the English public. Whether I shall be
able to prove the perfect innocence of Caroline Matilda by their aid,
it does not become me to say; that I must leave to the verdict of my
readers. But one thing I can with certainty affirm: the treatment of
the unfortunate Queen of Denmark was equally fiendish, cruel, and,
in every respect, revolting, whether she were guilty or not. Not the
slightest evidence could be brought against her: all the statements of
the witnesses, which extend to matters rarely produced in a court of
law (except, perhaps, in the case of Caroline of Brunswick), will prove
themselves to be supposititious, or simple calumnies. It is for this
reason that I attach such value to the evidence which has so recently
been obtained from the secret archives of Denmark, and which enables
me to lay the whole affair, for the first time in full, before the
impartial judgment of the English reader.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 56: Walpole's "Journal of the Reign of George III."]
[Footnote 57: "Annual Register, 1772."]
[Footnote 58: Walpole's "Journal of the Reign of George III.," to which
we are indebted for another anecdote. About a week after the account
came, Count Maltzahn, the Prussian envoy, asked Mr. Dayrolles, with
a sneer, "Qu'est devenu votre Reine de Danemarc?" Dayrolles replied,
with spirit, "Apparement qu'elle est à Spandau avec votre Princesse de
Prusse,"--who had been divorced for adultery.]
[Footnote 59: It is amusing to notice the transparent cloak employed
by public writers even when bespattering their political foes the most
fiercely. Thus Junius invariably addresses Lord N--, alludes to his
M--y, and tells the premier, not that he shall be accursed, but a--d.
It reminds me of the rule that only allows boxing matches in France
with the gloves on, though the latter may be made of the thinnest silk.]
[Footnote 60: I have allowed this revolting passage to stand, as
it exemplifies the language which a subject dared to use about the
reigning family in those days. It is not surprising that a nation,
which could tolerate language of this nature in the public press,
should be ready to credit the Queen of Denmark's guilt.]