THE GATHERING STORM.
1771.
The Queen's love for Struensee was not lessened by the discovery that
her idol had feet of clay, but she lost some of her blind faith in his
power to mould all things to his will. She once told her ladies that
"If a woman truly loved a man, she ought to follow him, even though
it were to hell"; it seemed likely that her words would before long
be put to the test. During those autumn days at Hirschholm, when the
popular discontent seethed to the very doors of the palace, the Queen
came out of her fool's paradise and realised that she and her favourite
were living on a volcano that might at any moment erupt and overwhelm
them. She frequently discussed with her court, half in jest and half
in earnest, what they should do when the catastrophe came. Once at
the royal table the Queen laughingly suggested to her friends the
advisability of all taking flight together, and each began to consider
what he, or she, would do to gain a livelihood in exile. The Queen, who
had a very sweet voice, and played on the harpsichord, said she would
turn singer, for she was sure by that means she would never starve.
Struensee said he would take a lonely farm, and devote himself to
agriculture and the consolations of philosophy. Brandt said he should
turn his dramatic talents to use, and become the acting manager of a
theatre. "And as for you, my fair lady," he said to one of the Queen's
ladies, probably Madame Gahler, "with your peerless form, you need do
nothing, but simply sit as a model for artists." The lady winced, and
the rest of the company laughed, for it was known, though she was very
beautiful, that she had a defect in her figure, which she was at great
pains to conceal. Despite this levity in public, they were all secretly
uneasy, and brooded much over the situation in private. Except the
Queen, who thought only of Struensee, each one sought how he might save
himself--if necessary at the expense of his fellows.
Struensee was thrown into a fresh panic by the appearance of a placard
setting a price upon his head, which was posted up by night in the
principal street of Copenhagen, and ran:--
"As the traitor Struensee continues to ill-treat our beloved King, to
mock his faithful subjects, and to seize with force and injustice more
and more of the royal authority, which the Danish people have entrusted
to their King alone, this Struensee and his adherents are hereby
declared outlawed. The man who puts an end to this traitor's life shall
receive five hundred dollars reward, his name kept secret, and a royal
pardon granted him."[10]
[10] Translated from the original document now preserved in the royal
archives at Copenhagen.
According to Keith this placard was probably a hoax, but it had a
dire effect upon Struensee. "A paper," Keith writes, "was fixed up in
the public squares of this city, setting a price upon his head, and
this stratagem--for I can only look upon it as such--had like to have
produced a very strange effect, as I am assured for some days he was
preparing to leave Denmark, and that the appearance of fifty men in a
threatening manner would have decided his flight."[11] But Keith was
far more prejudiced against Struensee than Gunning was, and he may have
exaggerated.
[11] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, November 18, 1771.
Struensee at this time certainly considered the possibility of flight;
he spoke to Reverdil on the subject, and declared that he was only
prevented by his devotion to the Queen, who, if he deserted her, would
again become the victim of intrigue. But probably Brandt's reasoning
weighed more with him. "Whither would you go," said Brandt, "where you
would be Prime Minister and favourite of a Queen?" Whither indeed?
Struensee's enemies sought to frighten him into resignation. But they
little knew their man. He would cling to office and power until they
were wrenched from his grasp. Thinking himself secure behind the
shelter of the Queen he did not heed the plots of the Queen-Dowager and
the nobles against his authority. What he dreaded was assassination,
or an insurrection of the people. Keith, a foreigner, took something
of the same view: "The persons who are most incensed against this
Ministry," he wrote, "seem both by their principles and their timidity
inclined to pursue their ends by dark and secret methods, and if they
are to succeed at all, it must be by seizing a moment of popular frenzy
and striking their blow all at once."[12] Brandt, though he counselled
Struensee to stay, was really very uneasy at the aspect of affairs: "I
wish all this would come to an end," he said one day to Falckenskjold,
"for I have a foreboding that this regime will soon be overthrown."
"You will fare badly if it is," replied Falckenskjold. "Oh," said
Brandt, "I have studied law, and shall be able to take care of myself."
[12] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, September, 1771.
It was a pity that Brandt's knowledge of law did not prevent him from
committing an act which the law of Denmark punished with death, and
which, in any case, was cowardly and brutal. Allusion has been made
to the fact that the King and Brandt frequently quarrelled, and,
though, since the arrival of Reverdil, Brandt was relieved of some
of his more onerous duties, he was still on bad terms with the King.
One morning at the Queen's _déjeuner_, the King, who rarely joined in
the conversation, suddenly, without provocation, shouted across the
table to Brandt: "You deserve a good thrashing, and I will give you
one. I am speaking to you, Count. Do you hear?" The incident created
an unpleasant sensation among the company, but Brandt, with his usual
presence of mind, ignored the affront, and turned the conversation to
other channels. After breakfast Struensee and the Queen took the King
aside, and rebuked him sharply, but the King only said: "Brandt is a
coward if he refuses to fight with me." He also told Brandt he was a
cur, and afraid to accept his challenge. It had always been one of
the King's manias, even in his comparatively sane years, to try his
strength with his attendants. He had frequently fought with Holck and
Warnstedt, and also with Moranti, the negro boy, and they had consented
to act on the defensive at his request, with the result that he was
always permitted to come off conqueror. The game was a perilous one
for the other combatant, for the King sometimes hit hard; on the other
hand, the law of Denmark made it an offence punishable with death for
any man to strike the King's sacred person.
Brandt had never yet fought with the King, for he had a love of a whole
skin, and shirked this disagreeable pastime; but now, goaded by the
King's insults, he determined to give him a lesson in manners. Apart
from his dislike of the King, his self-esteem was wounded by having
been insulted before the Queen, Countess Holstein and the other ladies,
and he resolved to be avenged. That he acted on a set plan is shown
by the fact that he hid a whip in a piano in the ante-chamber of the
King's room the day before he carried his design into execution. In the
evening of the following day, when Reverdil was absent, Brandt took the
whip from the piano, hid it under his coat, and went into the King's
apartment, where he found the semi-imbecile monarch playing with the
two boys who were his constant companions. Having turned Moranti and
the other boy out, Brandt locked the door, and then told the King, who
by this time was somewhat frightened, that he had come to fight with
him according to his wish, and asked him to take his choice of pistols
or swords. The King, who had not contemplated a duel, but a scramble,
said he would fight with his fists. Brandt agreed, and the struggle
began; but the King soon found that this particular adversary had not
come to act on the defensive, but the offensive. Brandt, who was much
the stronger of the two, for the King was weak and ailing, made use of
his strength without stint, and, rage urging him on, he first beat his
royal master unmercifully with his fists, and then thrashed him with
the whip until Christian cried for quarter. Brandt, when he had beaten
him until he could beat no longer, granted the request, and then left
the room, leaving the King much bruised and frightened.
After he had put his dress in order, Brandt proceeded to the Queen's
apartments, and joined the company at the card tables as if nothing
had happened. When the game was over, he told Struensee what he had
done. The Minister said he was glad to hear it; it would give them
peace from the King in future; but he cautioned Brandt to say nothing
about it. But the next day rumours of what had taken place were all
over the palace. The King's valet had found his master bruised and
weeping, and Moranti and the other boy had heard sounds of the scuffle.
Reports of the affray travelled to Copenhagen, and aroused general
indignation. Apart from the cowardly brutality of the attack, it was
deemed a monstrous thing that a man should raise his hand against the
Lord's anointed. Juliana Maria affected to find in it a confirmation
of her worst fears, and colour was given to the reports that the King
was systematically ill-treated, and his life was in danger. It was
said that the Queen and Struensee not only approved, but encouraged
this attack upon the King, and Brandt's appointment shortly after as
master of the wardrobe to the King, conferring on him the title of
"Excellency," was regarded as a proof of this. Without doubt, Brandt's
promotion was ill-timed, but the Queen had nothing to do with it.
Struensee granted these favours to Brandt in order to bind him more
closely to the court which he desired to leave.
Struensee, under panic from recent disturbances, had shown himself more
conciliatory, and promised to consider the possibility of re-appointing
the Council of State. He had also been induced, by Falckenskjold's
advice, to make the court pay more civility to the Queen-Dowager and
Prince Frederick, and occasionally the King and Queen invited them
to Hirschholm. But when the threatened danger seemed to pass away,
and nothing more happened, he regained his confidence, and became as
unyielding and overbearing as before. The Queen-Dowager and Prince
Frederick received fresh affronts; the idea of reviving the council was
dropped, and the dictator already considered the advisability of new
and more aggressive measures. Several more officials of high rank were
dismissed, and Struensee's favourites put in their places. He learned
nothing from the past; although he was told that the Queen-Dowager and
Prince Frederick would put themselves at the head of a party with a
view of overthrowing him, he took no heed, and merely replied: "The
purity of my views is my protection."[13] The man was drunk with
self-conceit.
[13] _Mémoires de Falckenskjold._
Meanwhile alarming rumours reached the Court of St. James's of the
state of affairs in Denmark, and grave fears were entertained for the
safety of the King's sister, who seemed blindly rushing to her ruin.
Keith's despatches with reference to the late disturbances were laid
before the King, who took serious counsel with his mother as to what
could be done to save Matilda from the peril that threatened her, and
to preserve the honour of his house. George III. had remonstrated with
his sister in vain; of late he had heard nothing from her, and the
last communication he received from her was to the effect that, if he
wrote again, his letters must be sent through Struensee, which, under
the circumstances, was little short of an insult. The King, at least,
so regarded it, and for some time could not bring himself to write to
his sister, if his letters were delivered through such a medium. In
the meantime Lord Suffolk was commanded to send Keith the following
despatch:--
"Your own delicacy and sentiment must have suggested the wish that the
critical state of things at the court where you reside may affect the
Queen of Denmark as little as possible. Your desire, therefore, to mark
your regard for her Majesty will be gratified by the instructions I now
give you, to endeavour most assiduously to prevent the disagreeable
incidents, which, if I am rightly informed, her Majesty is exposed
to in the present moment. You are already directed upon large public
considerations to promote upon all proper occasions of interference the
return of Mr. Bernstorff to lead in the administration, and I am happy
to understand that, at the same time, no minister is more inclined to
support the united interests of Great Britain and Russia, and there is
none more likely than Mr. Bernstorff to preserve that respect for the
King's sister, which, amidst the revenge and violence of party rage,
might, on a change of ministers, be too little attended to, or perhaps
even violated. If, therefore, Mr. Bernstorff should meet with success,
and owe it, as probably would be the case, in great measure to your
good offices and interposition, he cannot but be gratefully disposed to
acknowledge so important a service, and he cannot acknowledge it more
essentially than by giving full scope to his well-known attachment to
the King's (George III.'s) person and family, and by providing for the
honour and security of his royal mistress, in case they are liable to
danger from the unhappy condition of the country."[14]
[14] Lord Suffolk's despatch to Keith, London, November 1, 1771.
But the return of Bernstorff was of all things the most difficult to
effect at that juncture. He was living in exile, he was not in the
secret councils of the Queen-Dowager, who alone could head, with any
hope of success, a revolution against Struensee, and he had already
refused Rantzau's overtures. All this, of course, was unknown to the
court of St. James's, though most of it was known to Keith. The King
of England had not realised that his envoy had absolutely no influence
in the affairs of Denmark. All this, and much more, Keith strove to
explain in a despatch which he wrote in reply to Lord Suffolk's. He
reviewed the situation in much the same way as Gunning had done before
him:--
"I found, upon my arrival in this country," he wrote, "that the whole
weight of government had, with the King's consent, devolved upon his
Royal Consort. Mr. Struensee was already (I must add, unhappily) in
possession of that unlimited confidence on the part of her Danish
Majesty which has given him a dictatorial sway in every department
of government.... The genius of Count Struensee, though active,
enterprising and extensive, appears to be deficient in point of
judgment and resolution. His temper is fiery, suspicious and unfeeling;
his cunning and address have been conspicuous in the attainment of
power; his discernment and fairness in the exercise of it have fallen
short of the expectation of those who were least partial to him. His
morals are founded upon this single principle--that a man's duties
begin and end with himself, and in this life. The wickedness of avowing
openly a tenet so profligate and dangerous can only be equalled by
the ingratitude with which he has acted up to it, in his haughty and
imperious behaviour to the Person (the Queen) who, with unwearied
perseverance, continues to heap upon him all possible obligations. It
is almost unnecessary to add that he is arrogant in prosperity and
timid in danger."
Keith described again in detail the disturbances of the autumn, and
went on to say:--
"During that period, my most anxious attention was continually turned
to the painful situation of the Queen of Denmark, whose partiality
for Count Struensee seemed to gather strength from opposition. The
circumstances were truly alarming; yet, after weighing them maturely,
I had the heartfelt comfort to think that the removal of the Minister,
by whatever means effected, would soon restore her Majesty to the
affection of the nation, and re-establish her legal authority. If any
dangerous crisis had taken place, I was firmly determined to offer my
services to her Majesty in the best manner they could be employed for
the security of her person and dignity, and I trusted to my conscience
and to the humanity of my gracious Sovereign (George III.) for the
justification of the steps which my dutiful attachment to the Royal
Family might in such a moment have suggested. But, my Lord, it was
indispensably necessary that I should wait for the approach of such a
crisis before I declared to her Majesty my earnest intentions, as the
Prime Minister had from the first day excluded me (together with all my
colleagues) from the possibility of access to her Majesty.... It may
appear extraordinary that in the five months I have passed in Denmark I
have not had the honour of exchanging ten sentences with the Queen."
Keith then referred again to the terrors of Struensee, and the
precautions which had been taken to guard the palace of Hirschholm. He
related how for a short time Struensee appeared to be more amenable
to advice, but, on the passing of danger, he had again resumed his
overbearing manner; and added: "I am now fully persuaded that he must
again be driven to extremity before he yields any share of power
to those ministers who were formerly accustomed to treat him as a
mean inferior, and whose late expulsion had been a result of all his
efforts." With reference to the return of Bernstorff, he pointed out
that the Queen had a prejudice against the ex-minister on account of
his supposed wish to exclude her from the regency; but he did not
consider this objection insuperable, and wrote: "If Mr. Struensee
can ever be brought to recall Count Bernstorff, the Queen will not
oppose it. If Mr. Struensee quits the helm, or is forced from it,
there is but one set of men to whom her Majesty can have recourse (the
nobility), and, amongst them, almost every voice is in favour of Count
Bernstorff.... I shall endeavour most assiduously to prevent every
disagreeable incident, to which her Danish Majesty may be exposed by
the violence of party rage. This seems at present (November 18) much
abated, and I have had the satisfaction to observe that its greatest
fury has at all times been principally levelled at the person of the
Prime Minister.... How sorry am I, my Lord, that I dare not look for
a nearer and more pleasing hope for his dismission than the prospect
of his wearing out the patience and generosity of his powerful
protectress!"[15]
[15] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, November 18, 1771.
So matters stood up to the end of November. A truce seemed to be
declared. The court remained at Hirschholm (it was said because
Struensee dared not enter the capital), and, his fears being now to a
great extent allayed, the days passed as before in a round of amusement.
Hirschholm in the late autumn was damp and unhealthy, but still the
court lingered, and it was not until the end of November that a
move was made. Even then the King and Queen did not proceed to the
Christiansborg Palace, but went to Frederiksberg. At Frederiksberg
there was a court every Monday, but these courts were very sparsely
attended; the King, it was noticed, spoke to no one, and moved like
an automaton; the Queen looked anxious and ill. Sometimes Struensee
and the Queen went a-hawking; sometimes the King and Queen drove into
Copenhagen to attend the French plays or the opera; but the citizens
saw with astonishment that their Majesties now never drove into their
capital city without their coach being guarded by forty dragoons
with drawn sabres. At Frederiksberg, too, most elaborate military
arrangements were made for the security of the court. A squadron of
dragoons was quartered in an out-building, and there was not only a
mounted guard day and night round the palace, but the surrounding
country was patrolled by soldiers. The dread of assassination was ever
present with Struensee, and though he would not alter his methods of
government, he took the most elaborate precautions for his personal
safety, and all these precautions were on his behalf.
In addition to the guarding of Frederiksberg, he gave orders to the
commandant of the troops in Copenhagen, an officer whom he had himself
appointed, to have everything in readiness to maintain order by force
in the event of a rising or tumult. Copenhagen looked like a city in
a state of siege. The heaviest guns in the arsenal were planted on
the walls in front of the guard-house, and at the town gates. The
guns on the walls were turned round, and pointed at the city every
evening after sunset; the soldiers had their cartridges served out
to them, and patrolled the streets at all hours; even loaded cannon
were placed in front of the palace, and any one who wished to enter to
transact business was escorted in and out by two soldiers. All these
extraordinary precautions were carried out with the knowledge and
consent of the Queen; but the King was not consulted; he was surprised
to find himself living in a state of siege, and asked Struensee, in
alarm, what was the meaning of it all. Struensee, who knew well how to
trade on the fears of the King, replied that it was done for the better
protection of the King's royal person, for his subjects were rebellious
and disaffected, and it was feared that, if not checked, there would be
a revolution, like that which took place in Russia a few years before.
He even hinted that the King might meet with the same fate as the
unhappy Emperor Peter III., who was assassinated. Christian was greatly
frightened on hearing this. "My God!" he exclaimed, "what harm have I
done, that my dear and faithful subjects should hate me so?"
This display of armed force still more enraged the populace against the
favourite. The pointing of loaded cannon was regarded as an attempt
to over-awe the people by force, and a report was spread abroad
that Struensee intended to disarm the corps of burghers, or citizen
soldiers, who were charged with the keeping of the city. The colonel
commanding the burghers declared that if his men were deprived of their
muskets, they would defend their King, if need be, with paving stones.
Without doubt, these military preparations hastened the impending
crisis, for the Queen-Dowager and her adherents imagined they were
really directed against them. The whole kingdom was seething with
rebellion, and tumults sooner or later were inevitable. Yet, even now,
at the eleventh hour, the worst might have been averted, had it not
been for the incredible foolhardiness of Struensee. He had offended
every class and every interest; he could only hope to maintain his rule
by force. For this the army was absolutely necessary; but, by a wanton
act of provocation, Struensee aroused the army against him.
The ill-feeling which had been stirred up by the disbandment of the
Horse Guards in the summer had to some extent subsided. The officers
of the Household Cavalry, who were most of them wealthy and of noble
birth, had been extremely arrogant, and the other officers, both of the
army and navy, were not ill-pleased to see their pride humbled by their
privileges being taken away. But Struensee, who cherished a hatred
against all the guards, now resolved to disband even the battalion of
Foot Guards, and merge the officers and men into other regiments, on
the pretext that the existence of any favoured regiment was injurious
to the discipline of the rest of the army. Falckenskjold first opposed
this design, but, as Struensee was determined, he reluctantly yielded
the point, and the Privy Cabinet Minister sent an order, signed with
his own hand, to the war department for the regiment to be disbanded
forthwith. But General Gahler, who was the head of this department,
called his colleagues together, and they declared they could not act
without an order signed by the King in person, as they considered
Struensee's decree extremely dangerous, and likely to lead to mutiny.
Struensee was at first very indignant at this demur, but, finding
Gahler resolute, he had to give way, and he obtained an order signed by
the King. This he forwarded to the war department, who, in duty bound,
immediately yielded.
[Illustration: ENEVOLD BRANDT.
_From a Miniature at Frederiksborg._]
The next day, December 24, Christmas Eve, when the guards were drawn
up in line, the King's order for their disbandment and incorporation
was read to them, and they were commanded to hand their colours over to
the officers who were present from other regiments. The men refused,
and when they saw their colours being taken away, they rushed forward
in a body, and dragged them back by force, shouting: "They are our
colours; we will part from them only with our lives." The men were now
in a state of mutiny. Their officers had withdrawn, unwilling to risk
a contest with the authorities; so a non-commissioned officer assumed
the command, and led the insurgents. They marched to the Christiansborg
Palace, broke the gate open, drove away the guard stationed there, and
took their places. Some of them were hindered from entering the palace
by the other troops, who attempted to take them prisoners. The result
was a free fight, and in the course of it one of the guardsmen was
killed, and several soldiers were wounded. Copenhagen was in a state of
riot. Meanwhile Falckenskjold hurried to Frederiksberg with the news
of the mutiny. Once more Struensee was thrown into unreasoning panic,
and quite unable to act. Brandt and Bülow, the Queen's Master of the
Horse, hurried to the Christiansborg, and endeavoured to appease the
rebellious guards, but without success. The categorical reply was: "We
must remain guards, or have our discharge. We will not be merged into
other regiments." It should be mentioned that they were picked men, and
drawn from a superior class; they ranked with non-commissioned officers
in other regiments, and such punishments as flogging could not be
inflicted on them. The envoys returned to Frederiksberg with the news
of their ill-success, and the terror of Struensee increased.
The guards now had a council of war, and it was resolved that a party
of them should march to Frederiksberg, and request an interview with
the King in person, as the Norwegian sailors had done. When the party
set out, they found the western gate of the city closed and held
against them; but at the northern gate the officer of the guard allowed
them to pass. On the road to Frederiksberg they met the King driving,
a postilion and an equerry formed his only escort, and Reverdil was
alone with him in the carriage. The soldiers, who had no grievance
against the King, formed into line and saluted him, and Christian, from
whom the knowledge of the mutiny had been carefully kept, returned
the salute. When the guards reached Frederiksberg, Struensee's fears
deepened into panic. As at Hirschholm, hurried preparations were made
for flight, and orders were given to reinforce the palace guard. The
whole of the army sympathised with the guards, and it may be doubted
whether the soldiers would have resisted their comrades by force of
arms. Fortunately, one of the officers of the guards had hurried
before them to Frederiksberg to protest against extremities; he was
now sent out by Struensee to parley with them in the King's name. The
men repeated their demand: they must remain guards, or receive their
discharge. The officer went back to the palace, and pretended to see
the King, in reality, he saw only Struensee. Presently he returned to
inform the mutineers that the King did not wish to keep any men in his
service against their will, and they were therefore discharged, and
were at liberty to go where they pleased. The detachment thereupon
returned to Christiansborg to report to their comrades, but these
refused to trust a verbal statement, and requested that a written
discharge should be handed to each man before they surrendered the
palace.
General Gahler, who had disapproved of Struensee's action throughout,
and now feared there would be bloodshed, on hearing this went to
Frederiksberg, and insisted that a written discharge for the whole body
must be made out, duly signed and sealed by Struensee himself. This
he brought back to the guards; but the men, imagining there was some
deception, took exception to the form of the order, and the fact that
the King had not signed it. When this was reported to him, Struensee
lost patience, and threatened to storm the Christiansborg if the
mutineers were not removed before midnight--a most imprudent threat,
and one practically impossible to carry out, for the Queen-Dowager and
Prince Frederick were occupying their apartments in the Christiansborg
at the time, and no doubt secretly abetting the mutineers. Moreover,
the whole of Copenhagen sided with the guards. Citizens sent in
provisions, wines and spirits, in order that they might keep their
Christmas in a festive manner; the sailors sent word that they would
help the mutineers if the matter came to a crisis, and the gunners
secretly conveyed to them the news that they would receive them into
the arsenal and join them. Midnight struck, and still the mutineers
held the palace. Struensee, finding his threat had no weight, then
veered round to the other extreme, and was soon hastily filling up the
required number of printed discharges, which were taken to the King to
be signed one by one.
In the morning--Christmas morning--glad news came to the mutinous
guards. All their demands were complied with, and more than complied
with; a separate discharge, signed by the King, was presented to every
guardsman, and a promise that three dollars would be paid him, and
any advance he owed would be wiped off. So on Christmas morning the
disbanded guards marched out of the Christiansborg, which they had
occupied for twenty-four hours, and the danger was averted. The city
continued in a great state of excitement all day, and some street
fights took place, but nothing of importance. The King and Queen drove
into Copenhagen to attend divine service at the royal chapel, as this
was Christmas Day, and the fact was considered significant, for now
they rarely went to church. Another concession was made to public
opinion, for the following Sunday evening they were not present at the
French play, as was usually the case.
Unfortunately, these attempts at conciliation, trifling though they
were, came too late. The people had now made up their minds about
Struensee; he was a coward and a bully, who would yield everything
to violence, and nothing to reason. They had found him out; he was a
lath painted to look like iron. His wanton attack upon the guards and
subsequent capitulation filled the cup of his transgressions to the
brim. It was said that at this time Keith thought fit to intervene.
Hoping to shield his Sovereign's sister from the danger which
threatened her, he saw Struensee privately, and offered him a sum of
money to quit the country. If this be true (and no hint of it appears
in Keith's despatches), it had no result, for Struensee still clung to
his post. Rantzau, also, who had not quite settled his terms with the
Queen-Dowager, and, true to his character, was ready to sell either
side for the higher price, also saw Struensee, through the medium of
the Swedish minister, and urged him to resign, or at least to reverse
his whole system of policy; but Struensee would not listen, probably
because Rantzau wanted money, and he did not wish to give it him. Still
Rantzau did not desist; he went to Falckenskjold, and told him as much
as he dared of a conspiracy against Struensee, and offered to help
to detect it for a pecuniary consideration. Falckenskjold heard him
coldly, and merely said: "In that case, you should address your remarks
to Struensee himself." "He will not listen to me," said Rantzau, and
turned away. From that moment Struensee's luck turned away from him
too.