A QUEEN OF TEARS
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
THE LOVE OF
AN UNCROWNED QUEEN:
SOPHIE DOROTHEA, CONSORT OF GEORGE I.,
AND HER CORRESPONDENCE WITH PHILIP
CHRISTOPHER, COUNT KONIGSMARCK.
NEW AND REVISED EDITION.
_With 24 Portraits and Illustrations._
_8vo., 12s. 6d. net._
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.,
LONDON, NEW YORK AND BOMBAY.
[Illustration:
_Queen Matilda in the uniform of Colonel of the Holstein Regiment of
Guards._
_After the painting by Als, 1770._]
A QUEEN OF TEARS
CAROLINE MATILDA, QUEEN OF
DENMARK AND NORWAY AND
PRINCESS OF GREAT BRITAIN
AND IRELAND
BY
W. H. WILKINS
_M.A._, _F.S.A._
_Author of "The Love of an Uncrowned Queen," and
"Caroline the Illustrious, Queen Consort of George II."_
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1904
CONTENTS
PAGE
CONTENTS v
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii
CHAPTER I.
THE TURN OF THE TIDE 1
CHAPTER II.
THE GATHERING STORM 23
CHAPTER III.
THE MASKED BALL 45
CHAPTER IV.
THE PALACE REVOLUTION 63
CHAPTER V.
THE TRIUMPH OF THE QUEEN-DOWAGER 88
CHAPTER VI.
"A DAUGHTER OF ENGLAND" 110
CHAPTER VII.
THE IMPRISONED QUEEN 129
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DIVORCE OF THE QUEEN 149
CHAPTER IX.
THE TRIALS OF STRUENSEE AND BRANDT 177
CHAPTER X.
THE EXECUTIONS 196
CHAPTER XI.
THE RELEASE OF THE QUEEN 216
CHAPTER XII.
REFUGE AT CELLE 239
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RESTORATION PLOT 268
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN 295
CHAPTER XV.
RETRIBUTION 315
APPENDIX.
LIST OF AUTHORITIES 327
INDEX 331
CATALOG
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
QUEEN MATILDA IN THE UNIFORM OF COLONEL OF THE
HOLSTEIN REGIMENT OF GUARDS. (_Photogravure._)
_From a Painting by Als, 1770_ _Frontispiece_
THE ROSENBORG CASTLE, COPENHAGEN _Facing page_ 6
STRUENSEE. _From the Painting by Jens Juel, 1771, now
in the possession of Count Bille-Brahe_ " " 20
ENEVOLD BRANDT. _From a Miniature at Frederiksborg_ " " 38
QUEEN JULIANA MARIA, STEP-MOTHER OF CHRISTIAN VII.
_From the Painting by Clemens_ " " 54
KING CHRISTIAN VII.'S NOTE TO QUEEN MATILDA INFORMING
HER OF HER ARREST " " 74
THE ROOM IN WHICH QUEEN MATILDA WAS IMPRISONED
AT KRONBORG _Page_ 85
COUNT BERNSTORFF _Facing page_ 96
FREDERICK, HEREDITARY PRINCE OF DENMARK, STEP-BROTHER
OF CHRISTIAN VII. " " 108
THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE AT KRONBORG. _From
an Engraving_ " " 130
RÖSKILDE CATHEDRAL, WHERE THE KINGS AND QUEENS
OF DENMARK ARE BURIED " " 150
THE GREAT COURT OF FREDERIKSBORG PALACE. _From
a Painting by Heinrich Hansen_ " " 172
THE DOCKS, COPENHAGEN, _TEMP. 1770_ " " 184
THE MARKET PLACE AND TOWN HALL, COPENHAGEN,
_TEMP. 1770_ " " 184
STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON. _From a Contemporary Print_ " " 198
SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B " " 218
A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.
_From the Drawing by C. F. Christensen_ " " 234
THE CASTLE OF CELLE: THE APARTMENTS OF QUEEN
MATILDA WERE IN THE TOWER " " 246
QUEEN MATILDA. _From the Painting formerly at Celle_ " " 256
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND DUCHESS
OF BRUNSWICK, SISTER OF QUEEN MATILDA. _From
the Painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_ " " 266
LOUISE AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF DENMARK AND DUCHESS
OF AUGUSTENBURG, DAUGHTER OF QUEEN MATILDA " " 284
THE CHURCH AT CELLE, WHERE QUEEN MATILDA IS
BURIED. _From a Photograph_ " " 300
THE MEMORIAL ERECTED TO QUEEN MATILDA IN THE
FRENCH GARDEN OF CELLE " " 312
FREDERICK, CROWN PRINCE OF DENMARK (AFTERWARDS
KING FREDERICK VI.), SON OF QUEEN MATILDA " " 324
CHAPTER I.
THE TURN OF THE TIDE.
1771.
Struensee had now reached the highest pinnacle of power, but no
sooner did he gain it than the whole edifice, which he had reared
with consummate care, began to tremble and to rock; it threatened
to collapse into ruins and involve in destruction not only the man
who built it, but those who had aided him in the task. The winter of
1770-1771 had been a very severe one in Denmark, and the harvest of
the summer that followed was very bad. In the country there was great
distress, and in Copenhagen trade languished, largely in consequence
of the new order of things at court, which had caused so many of the
nobles to shut up their town houses and retire to their estates. The
clergy did not hesitate to say that the bad harvest and the stagnation
of trade were judgments of heaven upon the wickedness in high places.
The nobles declared that until the kingdom were rid of Struensee and
his minions, things would inevitably go from bad to worse. In every
class there was discontent; the people were sullen and ripe for revolt;
the navy was disaffected, and the army was on the verge of mutiny.
All around were heard mutterings of a coming storm. But Struensee,
intoxicated by success, would not heed, and so long as he was sure of
himself no one dared to dispossess him.
The rats were already leaving the sinking ship. Rantzau was the first
to break away; he had never forgiven either Struensee or the Queen for
having so inadequately (as he considered) rewarded his services. He had
expected a more prominent post in the Government, and failing this had
demanded that his debts, which were very heavy, should be paid. But to
his amazement and anger, Struensee had refused. Rantzau was jealous of
the Privy Cabinet Minister for having arrogated to himself all power
and all authority. He could not forget that this upstart favourite,
this ex-doctor, had been a creature of his own making, employed by
him not so long ago for base purposes, and he hated and despised him
with a bitterness proverbial when thieves fall out. Rantzau had often
traversed the dark and slippery paths of intrigue, and, finding that
nothing more was to be got from the party in power, he resolved to
traverse them once again. Not being burdened with consistency, this
time they led him in the direction of the exiled Bernstorff, whom
he had been instrumental in overthrowing. It seemed to him that if
Bernstorff would but return to Copenhagen, supported as he was by the
powerful influence of Russia and England, and the whole body of the
Danish nobility, Struensee would surely be overthrown. But Bernstorff,
though he lamented the evil days that had fallen upon Denmark, refused
to have anything to do with a scheme in which Rantzau was concerned.
"He knows," said Bernstorff, "that I cannot trust him, and I would
rather remain here in exile than return to office through his means."
Rantzau then determined on another plan; he shook the dust of the
Struensee administration off his feet; he took formal leave of the
King and Queen while they were at Hirschholm, and ostentatiously went
to live in retirement. This was only a preparatory move, for he now
determined to gain the confidence of the Queen-Dowager and her party,
to which he felt he naturally belonged. After all he was the inheritor
of a great and an ancient name, and his family was one of the most
considerable in the kingdom. His place was rather with the nobles, who
were his equals, than in filling a subordinate position in the councils
of a mountebank minister. The Queen-Dowager, like Bernstorff, listened
to all that Rantzau had to say, but, unlike Bernstorff, she did not
repulse him. On the other hand, she refused to commit herself to any
definite plan, for she knew well the character of Rantzau as a liar
and traitor. He was the very man to carry out some desperate attempt,
but Juliana Maria had not yet made up her mind whether her cause would
be better won by waiting or by a _coup d'état_. At present she was
inclined to agree with Catherine of Russia, who repeatedly said that
if Struensee had rope enough he would hang himself before long, and so
save others the trouble.
Osten also had differences with Struensee, which at one time he carried
to the point of sending in his resignation.[1] But he was "told that
his services in the post he now filled could not be dispensed with,
that he was not only useful but necessary, and that he might be assured
his remonstrances would always have their weight".[2] So Osten,
though he hated and despised Struensee quite as much as Rantzau did,
consented to remain, and, wily diplomatist that he was, performed the
difficult task of running with the hare and hunting with the hounds.
For he saw more clearly than any one that the present administration
could not last long, and he therefore determined, while taking all he
could get from Struensee, to put himself in the right with the other
side, so that when Struensee's ship went down in the tempest, he would
ride on the crest of the wave. To this end he paid assiduous court to
the English and Russian envoys, though careful to keep on good terms
with those of France and Sweden. He also managed to convey to the
Queen-Dowager and her party the idea that he wished them well, and that
he only remained in his present post under protest, for the good of the
country.
[1] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, June 15, 1771.
[2] _Ibid._
General Gahler, the minister for war, was also disaffected, and had
frequent quarrels with Struensee on matters connected with the army.
But Gahler was too deeply committed to Struensee's policy to make
any course possible to him except that of resignation. And Gahler was
reluctant to resign, not only because he was a poor man and loved the
emoluments of office, but also because his wife was a great friend
of the Queen, and one of the ladies of her household. Both Osten and
Gahler from time to time remonstrated with the arbitrary minister
on the wanton way in which he stirred up public feeling against his
administration, and counselled more conciliatory policy; but Struensee
would not hear.
Even Brandt, whom Struensee trusted absolutely, and whom he had loaded
with benefits, was jealous and discontented, and ready at any moment
to betray his friend if thereby he could benefit himself. Brandt was
greatly dissatisfied with his position, though Reverdil had relieved
him of his most onerous duties, and said with regard to some reproaches
he had received from the Queen, "that alone is hell". He made so many
complaints to Struensee that the Minister requested him to formulate
them in writing. Brandt then addressed him a lengthy letter in which he
complained bitterly of Struensee's interference in his department at
the court, which, he declared, rendered him contemptible in the eyes
of all. He told Struensee that his was a reign of terror. "No despot
ever arrogated such power as yourself, or exercised it in such a way.
The King's pages and domestics tremble at the slightest occurrence: all
are seized with terror; they talk, they eat, they drink, but tremble as
they do so. Fear has seized on all who surround the Minister, even on
the Queen, who no longer has a will of her own, not even in the choice
of her dresses and their colour." He also complained that Struensee
compelled him to play cards with the King and Queen, with the result
that he lost heavily, and his salary was thereby quite insufficient. He
therefore requested permission to leave the Danish court, and resign
all his offices in consideration of the yearly pension of five thousand
dollars a year. With this handsome annuity he proposed to live in Paris
and enjoy himself. He also asked for estates in Denmark to sustain his
dignity as count. His letter ended with a covert threat that if his
requests were not granted it was possible that he might be drawn into
a plot against Struensee, or put an end to an intolerable position by
"poison or steel".[3]
[3] This letter is still preserved in the archives of Copenhagen. It is
not worth while quoting it in full.
[Illustration: THE ROSENBORG CASTLE, COPENHAGEN.]
This letter was not only very insolent, but also incoherent, and
showed every sign of an unbalanced mind. Yet Struensee, who apparently
cherished a peculiar tenderness for Brandt, treated the epistle quite
seriously, and instead of dismissing him from court, as he might well
have done, he replied in a lengthy document which almost assumed the
importance of a state paper. He traced the whole of Brandt's discontent
to his amour with Countess Holstein, whom he disliked and distrusted.
He justified his interference in court matters on the ground that
Countess Holstein and Brandt together had introduced changes which
were displeasing to the Queen, and with respect to the Queen's dresses
he wrote: "The Queen, though a lady, is not angry with me when I
recommend retrenchment in respect to her wardrobe." With regard to
Brandt's losses at cards, he replied that loo was the only game the
King and Queen liked, and therefore it was impossible to change it,
and if Brandt and Countess Holstein did not understand the game and
consequently lost, he recommended them either to learn it better or put
on more moderate stakes. He took no notice of Brandt's demand for a
pension, but he declared that neither for him, nor for himself, would
he ask the King to grant estates to maintain their new dignities.
Brandt received Struensee's letter with secret anger and disgust. The
minister's evident wish to conciliate him he regarded as a sign of
weakness, and he immediately began to plot against his friend.
Thus it will be seen that Struensee's colleagues were all false to
him, and were only waiting an opportunity to betray him. The Queen
still clung to him with blind infatuation, and lived in a fool's
paradise, though her court was honeycombed with intrigues and she was
surrounded with spies and enemies. Even her waiting women were leagued
against her. They sanded the floor of the passage from Struensee's
chamber to the Queen's at night, that they might see the traces of his
footsteps in the morning; they put wax in the lock, and listened at
the keyhole; they laid traps at every turn, and the unconscious Queen
fell readily into them. All these evidences of her indiscretion were
carefully noted, and communicated to the Queen-Dowager at Fredensborg.
In Copenhagen and in the country the discontent daily grew greater,
and the boldness of Struensee's enemies more and more manifest. In
giving freedom to the press he had forged a terrible weapon for his own
undoing, and papers and pamphlets continually teemed with attacks on
the hated minister. Threatening and abusive letters reached him daily,
coarse and scurrilous attacks were placarded on the walls of the royal
palaces, and even thrown into the gardens at Hirschholm, that the Queen
and Struensee might see them on their daily walks.
When such efforts were made to fan the embers of popular discontent,
it is no wonder that they soon burst into a flame. The first outbreak
came in this wise. An inglorious and expensive naval war against the
Dey of Algiers, inherited from the Bernstorff administration, was
still being prosecuted, and Struensee had ordered new ships to be
constructed, and sent to Norway for sailors to man them. Such was the
maladministration of the navy department that the work proceeded very
slowly, and the Norwegian sailors who had been brought to Copenhagen
wandered about in idleness, waiting for the vessels to be finished. The
Government, with manifest injustice, would neither give these sailors
their pay nor allow them to return to their homes. The only effect of
their remonstrances was that the dockyard men were ordered to work on
Sundays so that the vessels might be finished sooner. The dockyard men
asked for double pay if they worked on Sundays, and this being refused,
they struck off work altogether, and joined the ranks of the unemployed
sailors, who had been waiting eight weeks for their pay, and were
almost starving. The Norwegians had always taken kindly to the theory
of the absolute power of the King. Their political creed was very
simple: first, that the King could do no wrong, and secondly, that he
must be blindly obeyed. It therefore followed naturally that, if an act
of injustice like the present one were committed, it must be committed
by the King's subordinates, and not by himself, and he had only to
know to set matters right. Having petitioned the Government repeatedly
without receiving any redress, they determined to take matters in their
own hands. Early in September a body of Norwegian sailors, to the
number of two hundred, set out from Copenhagen for Hirschholm with the
resolution of laying their grievance before the King in person, in the
confident hope that they would thus obtain redress.
When the sailors drew near to Hirschholm the wildest rumours spread
through the court, and the greatest panic prevailed. It was thought
to be an insurrection, and the mutineers were reported to be swarming
out from Copenhagen to seize the King and Queen, loot the palace,
and murder the Minister. The guard was called out and the gates
were barred, and a courier despatched to Copenhagen for a troop of
dragoons. At the first sound of alarm the King and Queen, Struensee,
Brandt, and the whole court, fled by a back door across the gardens to
Sophienburg, about two miles distant. Here they halted for a space,
while the Queen and Struensee seriously debated whether they should
continue their flight to Elsinore, and seek refuge behind the stout
walls of the ancient fortress of Kronborg. Eventually they resolved
first to despatch an aide-de-camp back to Hirschholm to reconnoitre,
and to parley with the supposed insurgents. The aide-de-camp, who was
a naval officer, met the malcontents outside the palace gates, and was
surprised to see no mutineers, but only a body of Norwegian sailors,
whose sufferings and deprivations were clearly marked upon their
countenances. He asked them what they wanted. "We wish to speak with
our little father, the King," was the reply; "he will hear us and help
us." The aide-de-camp galloped back with this message to Sophienburg,
but Struensee thought it was a trap, and made the officer return and
say that the King was out hunting.
The sailors replied that they did not believe it, and prepared to
force their way into the palace that they might see the King face to
face; the guard, which had now been reinforced by a troop of dragoons,
tried to drive them back. The sailors, whose intentions had been quite
peaceful, now laid hands on their knives, and declared that they
would defend themselves if the soldiers attacked them. Fortunately
the aide-de-camp was a man of resource, and resolved to act on his
own initiative and avoid bloodshed; he saw that the men were not
insurgents. He made a feint to go back and presently came out of the
palace again and announced that he had a message to them from the King.
His Majesty commanded him to say that if his loyal sailors would return
quietly, he would see justice done to them. With this the sailors
professed themselves to be content, and they walked back to Copenhagen
as peacefully as they had come. The promise was kept, and more than
kept, for the sailors, on their return to Copenhagen, were treated with
spirits, temporarily appeased by a payment on account, and all their
arrears were settled a few days later. The aide-de-camp had gone again
to Sophienburg and told Struensee that this was the only way to pacify
them, and a courier had been sent in haste from Hirschholm to the
admiralty at Copenhagen to order these things to be done, for Struensee
was by this time frightened into promising anything and everything.
When the sailors had gone and quiet was restored, Struensee was
persuaded to return to Hirschholm, but only after great difficulty;
the guard round the palace was doubled, and the dragoons patrolled all
night, for Struensee greatly feared that the sailors would shortly
return more furious and better armed. The Queen, who was determined,
whatever happened, not to abandon her favourite, ordered that her
horses should be kept saddled and in readiness, so that at the first
sign of tumult she might fly with him and the King to Kronborg. She
went to bed in disorder, had her riding-habit laid in readiness by
the side of the bed, and in the middle of the night rose to have her
jewellery packed up. Struensee was in abject terror all night, and
would not go to bed at all. With the morning light came reflection
and renewed courage, and then the court was ashamed of the panic it
had shown, and did the best to conceal it; but the news travelled to
Copenhagen.
The way in which Struensee had capitulated to the demand of the
Norwegian sailors on the first hint of tumult led other bodies of men,
whose claims were less just, to have their demands redressed in a
similar way. Therefore, a fortnight later a body of some hundred and
twenty silk-weavers proceeded on foot from Copenhagen to Hirschholm
to complain that they were starving because the royal silk factories
had been closed. Again the alarmed minister yielded, and orders were
given that work in the factories should be continued, at least until
the silk-weavers could obtain other employment. These demonstrations
roused the fear that others would follow, and the guard at Hirschholm
was increased, and soldiers were now posted round the palace and the
gardens day and night. For the first time in the history of the nation
the King of Denmark lived in a state of siege for fear of his own
people.
Keith wrote home on the subject of the recent disturbances: "The
general discontent here seems to gain strength daily, and the impunity
which attended the tumultuous appearances of the Norwegian sailors at
Hirschholm has encouraged the popular clamours (which are no more
restrained by the nature of this Government) to break out in such
indecent representations and publications as even threaten rebellion....
"I pray Heaven that all lawless attempts may meet with the punishment
they deserve, and I sincerely trust they will. But if, unfortunately,
it should happen that the populace is ever stirred up to signalise
their resentment against its principal objects, the Counts Struensee
and Brandt, your Lordship will not be surprised if the vengeance of a
Danish mob should become cruel and sanguinary."[4]
[4] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, September 25, 1771.
The "indecent representations and publications" became so bad that
Struensee was provoked into revoking his former edict and issuing
a rescript to the effect that, as the press had so grossly abused
the liberty granted to it by foul and unjustifiable attacks on the
Government, it would again be placed under strict censorship. This
edict had the effect of stopping the direct attacks upon Struensee
in the papers; but the scribblers soon found a way of evading the
censorship by attacking their foe indirectly, and bitter pasquinades
were issued, of which, though no names were mentioned, every one
understood the drift. For instance, one of the leading publications,
_The Magazine of Periodical Literature_, propounded the following
questions for solution: "Is it possible that a woman's lover can be
her husband's sincere friend and faithful adviser?" and again: "If the
husband accepts him as his confidant, what consequences will result
for all three, and for the children?" The answers to these questions
contained the fiercest and most scurrilous attacks on the Queen and
Struensee, under the cover of general and abstract statements.
The alarm which the Norwegian sailors had caused Struensee was followed
by the discovery of a plot against his life which increased his terror.
There were about five thousand men employed in the Government dockyards
at Copenhagen as ship-builders and labourers of every description.
These men were also dissatisfied at the changes which had lately been
introduced into the naval department, and their attitude for some time
had been sullen and mutinous. To punish them for their discontent
Struensee had excluded them from the festivities on the King's last
birthday, but now, fearing another outbreak, more formidable than
that of the Norwegian sailors, he swung round to the other extreme,
and determined to give these dockyard men a feast of conciliation in
the grounds of Frederiksberg to compensate them for the loss of their
perquisites on the King's birthday. September 29 was the day chosen for
the _fête_, and it was announced that the King and Queen, the Privy
Cabinet Minister and all the court would drive over from Hirschholm to
honour the gathering with their presence. The _corps diplomatique_ were
invited to meet their Majesties, and a detachment of the new Flying
Body Guard was told off to form the royal escort.
The _fête_ was favoured with fine weather, and the day was observed
as a day of gala; the dockyard men, with their wives and children, and
drums beating and banners flying, went in procession to the gardens
of Frederiksberg, where they were lavishly regaled. Oxen were roasted
whole, and sheep, pigs, geese, ducks and fowls were also roasted and
distributed. Thirty tuns of beer were broached, a quart of rum was
given to each man, a pipe of tobacco and a day's wages. After dinner
there were games, dancing and music. All day long the revellers waited
for the coming of the King and Queen, but they waited in vain.
In the morning, at Hirschholm, the King and Queen made themselves
ready and were about to start, when a rumour reached the palace that
a plot had been formed to assassinate Struensee at the festival.
Immediately all was confusion. The King and Queen retired to their
apartments, and Struensee summoned Brandt and Falckenskjold to a
hurried conference. Falckenskjold urged Struensee to treat the rumour
as baseless, go to the festival and present an unmoved front to the
people. This display of personal courage would do more than anything
else to give the lie to the rumours of his cowardice at Hirschholm,
and now that he was forewarned he could be safely guarded. Nothing
would induce Struensee to go; he shuddered at the slightest hint of
assassination. Falckenskjold then advised him cynically, as he was so
much afraid, to be more careful in the future how he stirred up his
enemies, or he might find himself not only dismissed from office and
disgraced, but dragged to the scaffold on a charge of high treason.
Struensee said such a charge was impossible, as he had done nothing
without the consent of the King. "Well, at any rate see that your
papers are in order," said Falckenskjold significantly. "My papers are
arranged," Struensee replied; "on that account I have nothing to fear,
if my enemies will only behave fairly in other respects." Brandt also
joined in urging Struensee to modify some of his more objectionable
measures, and attempt to conciliate his enemies. But Struensee, though
he trembled at the mere hint of personal violence, was obstinate as to
this. "No," he said emphatically; "I will withdraw nothing which in my
belief promotes the welfare of the state." "The time will come," said
Brandt emphatically, "when you will _have_ to yield." Struensee went
to see the Queen, and shortly after a message came countermanding all
orders, as neither the King nor the Queen would attend the festival.
The dockyard men were much disappointed at the non-appearance of their
Majesties, and their disappointment was changed to indignation when
they learned that it was fear which kept them at Hirschholm. It seemed
incredible that the King of Denmark should distrust his own people.
The King, in point of fact, did not distrust them; he showed himself
quite indifferent whether he went to Frederiksberg or stayed at home;
it was Struensee who feared for himself, and the Queen who feared for
her favourite. The proceedings at Frederiksberg passed off without any
disturbance, though the dockyard men jestingly remarked that the ox
sacrificed for them was not the ox they had been promised--an allusion
to Struensee's corpulence. Struensee probably showed discretion in
keeping away from the festival, for there was a deep-laid plot to
capture him, alive or dead, when he mingled with the crowd.[5]
[5] In 1774 Baron Bülow gave Mr. Wraxall a detailed account of the plot
to murder Struensee and his partisans on this occasion.--Wraxall's
_Posthumous Memoirs_.
The terror and irresolution displayed by Struensee were quite foreign
to the character before conceived of him both by friends and foes.
"I have begun to see his character in a different light from that
in which it appeared formerly,"[6] writes Keith; and again: "It has
been whispered about that, upon the late disturbances, he betrayed
some unexpected signs of personal fear, and the natural result of
this suspicion is to loosen the attachment of the persons whom he
has trusted, and to diminish that awe which is necessary for the
maintenance of his unbounded authority."[7]
[6] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, September, 1771.
[7] _Ibid._
Struensee's cowardice, now twice proved, dealt a fatal blow to his
prestige: the man of iron had feet of clay; the despotic minister,
"the man mountain," whose reign, according to Brandt, was based on the
terror he inspired, was himself stricken with craven fears. It seemed
inconceivable that a man who had dared everything, and braved every
risk to gain power, should, the moment he reached the goal of his
ambition, reveal himself a poltroon. For two years Struensee had shown
an unmoved front to the threats of his enemies; for two years he had
carried his life in his hand; but now the mere hint of insurrection,
or assassination, made him tremble and cower behind the skirts of the
Queen. This inconsistency has never been satisfactorily explained in
any of the books written on Struensee and his administration. His
admirers pass it over as lightly as possible. His enemies say that it
reveals the man in his true colours as a sorry rogue; but this theory
will not hold, for the courage and resource which Struensee showed all
through his career until the last few months give it the lie. The key
to the mystery is probably to be found in physical causes.
Struensee was still a young man as statesmen go; he was only
thirty-four years of age--an age when most men are entering upon the
prime and full vigour of their manhood--and he came of a healthy stock;
but the herculean labours of the last two years had told upon him. No
man could overthrow ministers, reform public offices, formulate a new
code of laws, and change the whole policy of a kingdom without feeling
the strain. For two years Struensee had been working at high pressure,
toiling early and late. He left little or nothing to subordinates; his
eagle eye was everywhere, and not a detail escaped him, either in the
Government or in the court. He was a glutton for work, and gathered to
himself every department of the administration. No step could be taken
without his approval; no change, however slight, effected until it had
first been submitted to him. We have seen how Osten complained that
Struensee meddled in his department; we have seen how Brandt complained
that even the comedies and dances, the colour and shape of the Queen's
dresses, had to receive the dictator's approval. It was not humanly
possible that any man, even though he were a "beyond-man," could work
at this pitch for any length of time. He could not do justice to
matters of high policy and government, and supervise every petty detail
of a court; either one or the other must suffer, and with Struensee
the more important, in the long run, went to the wall. He lost his
sense of the proportion of things, and became burdened with a mass of
detail. It was not only the work which suffered, but the man himself;
overstrained, he lost his balance, overwrought, he lost his nerve. To
this must be ascribed the fatal errors which characterised the last few
months of his administration. To this and his self-indulgence.
It was almost impossible that a man could work at so high a pressure
without injury; it could only be possible if he took the greatest heed
of himself, carefully guarded his bodily health, and led a regular
and abstemious life. Two of Struensee's greatest contemporaries,
who achieved most in the world, Frederick the Great and Catherine
the Great, were careful to lead simple, abstemious lives;[8] but
Struensee was by nature a voluptuary, and he lived the life of the
senses as well as the life of the intellect. In early years he had
to check this tendency to some extent, for he lacked the means to
purchase his pleasures; but when, by an extraordinary turn of fortune's
wheel, he found himself raised from obscurity to power, from poverty
to affluence, with the exchequer of a kingdom at his disposal, and
unlimited means whereby to gratify every wish, he gave full rein to
his appetites. He was a gourmand; the dishes which came to the royal
table were made to tickle his palate, and what he did not like was not
served, for this mighty minister even superintended the cuisine, and
took a pleasure therein. Rich food called for rare vintages, and the
choicest wines in the royal cellar were at Struensee's disposal. He
did not stint himself either with food or drink; he was a wine-bibber
as well as a glutton, and habitually ate and drank more than was
good for him. All his life he had been a scoffer at morality, and
now he deliberately made use of his opportunities to practise what
he preached. In fine, when he was not at work, his time was spent in
the gratification of carnal pleasures. He never took any real rest; a
few hours' sleep, generally not begun until long after midnight, were
all he allowed himself, and the moment his eyes opened he was at work
again. The result of this excess, both in work and pleasure, was a
nervous breakdown; he became corpulent and flabby, his physical and
mental health was shattered, and he was no longer able to keep that
firm grasp upon affairs which the position he had arrogated to himself
demanded from the man at the helm. He relaxed his hold, and the ship
of state, which he had built with so much care, began to drift rapidly
and surely towards destruction. In the royal archives at Copenhagen
may be seen many specimens of Struensee's signature which he inscribed
upon documents during his brief rule, and in the last months of his
administration this signature is no longer bold and firm, but wavering
and disjointed, as though written with a trembling hand. This was
accounted for at the time by the statement that Struensee had hurt his
wrist in a heavy fall from his horse, while riding with the Queen at
Hirschholm towards the end of September. But the cause probably lay
deeper than that, and the trembling signature was an evidence of the
rapidly failing powers of the man, who, until he showed fear at the
arrival of the handful of sailors at Hirschholm, had been considered
almost superhuman.
[8] Catherine the Great, of course, broke her rule in one respect, but
then she was an exception of all rules.
[Illustration: STRUENSEE.
_From the Painting by Jens Juel, 1771, now in the possession of Count
Bille-Brahe._]
This theory of physical collapse also explains much that is otherwise
inexplicable in the closing days of Struensee's career. When, by
royal decree, he had arrogated to himself the kingly authority, and
wielded without let or hindrance absolute power, it was thought that
he would use this power to complete the work he had begun, and to
revolutionise the whole political government of the kingdoms. But, to
the astonishment of all, Struensee did nothing; the power lay idle in
hands that seemed half-paralysed, or only showed intermittent signs
that it existed by some feeble revocation of previous acts, as, for
instance, the re-imposition of the censorship of the press.
As Keith wrote: "It would seem as if the genius of the Prime Minister
had wasted itself by the hasty strides he made to gain the summit of
power. Daily experience shows us that he has formed no steady plan
either with regard to the interior affairs of Denmark or her foreign
connections. From such a man it was natural to expect that the most
decisive and even headlong acts would distinguish an administration
of which he had the sole direction; instead of which, the business
accumulates in every department of the state, and only a few desultory
steps have been taken, which lead to no important or permanent
consequences."[9]
[9] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, September 20, 1771.
To the same cause must be attributed the apathy with which Struensee
regarded the treachery of his followers, and the increased activity
of his enemies. Though beset by dangers on every side, he disregarded
alike warnings and entreaties, and drifted on to his doom. It is true
that this indifference was broken by spasms of unreasoning panic; but
the moment the threatened peril had passed he fell back into apathy
again.