THE TRIUMPH OF THE QUEEN-DOWAGER.
1772.
When day dawned on January 17, the citizens of Copenhagen awoke to the
fact that the hated rule of Struensee was gone for ever. The constant
driving through the streets during the night had attracted little
attention, for the noise was thought to arise from the guests returning
from the ball at the palace; but when morning came, and the streets
were seen to be full of soldiers, the people realised that something
unusual had happened. First there came a rumour of a fresh outrage on
the part of Struensee, and of an attempt to assassinate the King. But
swift on the heels of this came the truth: the King, with the aid of
the Queen-Dowager and his brother, had asserted himself; the favourite
and his colleagues were in prison, and Queen Matilda had been conveyed
to Kronborg. During the silent hours of the night a revolution had been
effected, and the mob, like all mobs, shouted on the winning side. The
news ran like wildfire round Copenhagen, and soon every one was in the
streets. On all sides were heard shouts of "Long live King Christian
VII.!" and many cheers were raised for the Queen-Dowager and Prince
Frederick. The people converged towards the Christiansborg Palace, and
completely filled the space in front of it, shouting and cheering.
At ten o'clock in the morning the King, who, until now, had been busy
signing orders of arrest, and sanctioning appointments of others to
fill the place of those arrested, appeared upon the balcony, with his
brother by his side, while the Queen-Dowager, more modest, showed
herself at the window in an undress. Their appearance was greeted
with deafening shouts by the crowd, to which the King and the Prince
responded by bows, and Juliana Maria by waving her handkerchief. The
enthusiasm grew more and more, until at last the King joined in the
cheers of his people. The Queen-Dowager had not miscalculated her
forces: without doubt the people were on her side.
The citizens now began to deck their houses with flags and bunting, and
everywhere kept high holiday. Even the heavens seemed to rejoice at the
downfall of the hated administration, for the sun came out, and shone
with a brilliance that had not been known in January in Copenhagen for
years. About noon the gates of the Christiansborg Palace were thrown
open, and the King, splendidly dressed, with his brother seated by
his side, drove forth in a state coach drawn by eight white horses to
show himself to his people. For the first time for months the King
dispensed with all escort, and, except for the running footmen and
postilions, the royal coach was unattended. The King drove through
all the principal streets. The crowd was so great that it was with
difficulty the coach could make way, and the people pressed and surged
around it, and in their enthusiasm wanted to take out the horses and
drag the coach themselves. The women especially were wild with delight,
and waved their handkerchiefs frantically; some even pulled off their
headgear, and waved it in the air, the better to testify their joy
at seeing their beloved Sovereign safe and sound, and freed from his
hated guardians. The King, however, when the novelty of the situation
was over, relapsed into his usual apathy, and did not respond to the
greeting of his loving subjects, but kept his window up, and stared
through it indifferently at the crowd; but Prince Frederick, who was
usually undemonstrative, had let the window down on his side of the
coach, and bowed and smiled incessantly.
The King held a court in the afternoon at the palace, and was supported
on one side by the Queen-Dowager and on the other by his brother. The
court was crowded, and by a very different class of people to those who
had appeared during the brief reign of Struensee. Many of the nobility,
who had heard the glad news, hurried into Copenhagen to personally
offer their congratulations to the three royal personages on the
overthrow of the detested German Junto. All the Queen-Dowager's party,
all the principal clergy, and all who had taken part in the conspiracy,
directly or indirectly, were present; and many more who knew of it,
but held aloof until it was an accomplished fact, were now eager to
pay their court. The King remained only a short time, and left the
Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick to receive the rest of the company,
and they did with right good will, rejoicing in their new-found dignity
and importance. It was their hour of triumph, and the inauguration of
the clique which governed Denmark for the next twelve years.
In the evening the three royal personages drove to the opera through
cheering crowds, and when they entered their box the whole house rose
in enthusiasm. Their return to the palace was a triumphal procession,
the people forming their guard as before. At night the city was
illuminated; every house displayed lights in its windows, and bonfires
were kindled in the streets. Salvoes of artillery were fired from the
ramparts, and rockets were sent up. The whole population seemed mad
with joy. So great was the illumination that the sky was lit up for
miles around. At far-off Kronborg Queen Matilda, peering through her
iron bars, saw the light in the sky over towards the capital, and asked
what it meant. She was told that it was Copenhagen rejoicing over her
downfall.[25]
[25] _Mémoires de Reverdil._
The popular rejoicings were marred by gross excesses, though
considering the excited state of public opinion it is a wonder that
more were not committed. Some of the lowest characters had turned
into the streets, and the sailors and dockyard men, who especially
hated Struensee, were drunk with wine and excitement. The mob, not
content with bonfires, soon showed signs of rioting. They broke into
the house of one of Struensee's supporters and wrecked it, carried
off the furniture, and smashed the windows. In the cellar there was
a large stock of spirits. The rioters broke the casks open, drank
what they would, and upset the rest, with the result that they waded
up to their ankles in liquor. Inflamed by drink they next attacked
other houses. The police, unable to check the riot, which had grown
to dangerous proportions, applied to Eickstedt for soldiers to aid
them. But the Queen-Dowager was unwilling to call out the military,
as she thought a conflict might bring about bloodshed and so damp the
popular enthusiasm. Therefore, instead of soldiers, Prince Frederick's
chamberlain was sent to the scene of disturbance, with instructions
to thank the people for the rejoicings they had manifested on the
King's deliverance from his enemies, and a promise that the King would
especially remember the sailors (who were among the most tumultuous
of the rioters), if they would now go quietly home. But the mob had
by this time got out of hand, and either did not, or would not,
listen. They rushed towards the royal stables, with the intention of
smashing Struensee's coach, but were prevented by the palace guard.
They then endeavoured to wreck the house of the chief of the police,
but being foiled in this attempt also, they began to plunder the
_mont-de-pieté_. At this point the soldiers had to be called out, and
they succeeded in dispersing the rioters without bloodshed. Next day
the streets were patrolled by the burgher guard, and in the afternoon
heralds rode round the city, and at certain points read a message from
the King, in which he thanked his loyal people for their enthusiasm,
but regretted that their zeal had got the better of their discretion.
He forbade any further plundering or excesses under heavy penalties.
After this the people gradually quieted down, but it was a week before
the patrol could be removed.
Meanwhile the Queen-Dowager was occupied in distributing honours among
her adherents. The arch-conspirator, Rantzau, at last received the
reward of his intrigues. He was made General-in-Chief of the infantry,
and a Knight of the Elephant, and his debts were paid in full from the
royal treasury. It may be that the part he had played in the arrest
of Matilda, and the callousness and insolence he had shown to the
unfortunate Queen, quickened the sense of Juliana Maria's gratitude;
for she rewarded him promptly and handsomely. Eickstedt and Köller
were promoted to be full generals, and decorated with the order of
the Dannebrog. Köller, who was a Pomeranian by birth, was offered
naturalisation, with the name of Banner, an extinct Danish noble
family. Köller accepted, saying that he intended henceforth to devote
his life to Denmark, and was known from this time as Köller-Banner.
He was also given a court appointment as aide-de-camp to the King,
with apartments in the royal palace. Beringskjold was appointed Grand
Chamberlain, and received a pension of two thousand dollars, and a
further present of forty thousand dollars paid down. His elder son was
appointed a court page, and the younger was promised a captaincy. All
the officers of the palace guard who had done duty on the eventful
night were promoted a step. Major Carstenskjold, who had conducted
Matilda to Kronborg with his drawn sabre and forty dragoons, was made
a lieutenant-colonel. Colonel Sames, who had arrested Brandt, received
a present of ten thousand dollars. Jessen was created a councillor of
justice, and received a gift of two thousand dollars. Rewards were also
given to minor personages.
The only one of the conspirators who received no reward, though he
was in reality the chief among them, was Guldberg, who declared that
the success of the enterprise was sufficient reward for him, and
he required neither money nor titles.[26] Guldberg was sure of his
influence with the Queen-Dowager; he knew, too, that his apparent
disinterestedness would carry weight with the people, and so strengthen
his position. He had reserved for himself the power behind the throne,
and he filled in the new government something of the place that
Struensee had filled in the old. That is to say, he had great influence
over the Queen-Dowager; he was the indispensable man, he directed the
policy, and no appointments were made of which he did not approve. But
unlike Struensee he conducted himself with infinite tact and discretion.
[26] He later took the name of Hoegh-Guldberg, and became a minister of
state.
As the Struensee administration had been destroyed root and branch,
it was necessary to make several new appointments to carry on the
government of the country. The first care of the Queen-Dowager was
to appoint some one to act as the King's keeper--some one who would
guard him well--for Christian VII.'s formal consent was absolutely
necessary for every step she took. The King was now in so weak-minded a
condition, and so easily influenced, that any one who had possession of
him could make him sign any order he would. All the same Juliana Maria
had some difficulty in getting the King to consent to a new guardian,
or "personal attendant," as he was called, to take Brandt's place. A
long list of names was submitted to him, but he refused them one by
one until at last, when the Queen-Dowager mentioned Osten's name, the
King said: "Yes, I will have him." But Osten did not care to exchange
his influential post as minister of foreign affairs for that of the
King's companion, and declined the honour. So Köller-Banner, who was a
great favourite of the Queen-Dowager, was appointed to the office. The
Queen-Dowager was anxious to win the support of the old Danish nobility
to the new Government. Therefore, Count Otto Thott and Councillor
Schack-Rathlou, who had been dismissed by Struensee, were invited to
take part again in the business of state. Bernstorff's recall was
urged by a powerful section, but Osten and Rantzau both opposed it
violently, for they feared the return of this upright and conscientious
man.[27] Guldberg, too, was afraid that a statesman of Bernstorff's
eminence would prove a rival to his ambition. The Queen-Dowager also
did not wish to recall Bernstorff, because of his well-known devotion
to the royal house of England. She feared that he would interfere on
behalf of Matilda, of whom she was very jealous. She determined to make
her feel the full weight of her vengeance.
[27] In spite of this opposition in time Bernstorff might have come
back, but his health was failing, and he died in the autumn of 1772, at
the age of sixty years, at Grabow.
[Illustration: COUNT BERNSTORFF.]
The bitter feeling against Struensee seemed to increase as the days
went by, and on every side were heard cries for vengeance. On January
19, the first Sunday after the revolution, _Te Deums_ were sung in
all the churches of Copenhagen; and throughout the kingdom, wherever
the news had penetrated, there was a thanksgiving to Almighty God for
the overthrow of the godless Government. The clergy, who had been
especially hostile to Struensee, and done much to bring about his
fall, did not hesitate to improve the occasion from their pulpits, and
spoke of "the fearful vengeance of the Lord" which had fallen upon
wickedness in high places. Nor did they spare in their condemnation
the unfortunate Matilda, but likened her to Rahab and to Jezebel, and
urged their congregations to hate and execrate her name. The celebrated
Dr. Münter, who had often come into conflict with the Queen and
Struensee in the days of their power, preached in the royal chapel of
the Christiansborg Palace before the King, the Queen-Dowager, Prince
Frederick and the court, and took for his text St. Matthew, chapter
viii., verses 1-13. His sermon was nothing but a violent diatribe
against the fallen minister, more especially for his policy in granting
toleration in matters of religion. "Godless men ruled over us," cried
the preacher, "and openly defied God. They, to whom nothing was sacred
either in heaven or earth, despised and mocked the national faith. Yet,
while they were meditating violent measures to secure their power for
ever, the vengeance of the Lord fell upon them." So on for many pages,
concluding with: "Our King is once more ours; we are again his people."
The eloquence of the preacher so moved the Queen-Dowager that she shed
tears.
The fanaticism of the clergy was only equalled by the fury of the
press. That the journals of Copenhagen, which were more or less
subsidised, should indulge in violent language was only to be expected,
but the most eminent writers of the time joined in the cry, including
the historian Suhm, a man who was a Dane of Danes, and who had already
urged the Queen-Dowager to action. This learned man published an open
letter to the King, which was sold in pamphlet form throughout the
kingdom. Like many other professors, Suhm was only admirable when he
confined himself to the subjects which he professed, and the moment
he quitted the realm of history for contemporary politics he became
unfortunate and of no account. His open letter out-Müntered Münter in
the violence of its abuse and the fulsomeness of its adulation. "Long
enough," runs the pamphlet, "had religion and virtue been trampled
under foot; long enough had honesty and integrity been thrust aside. A
disgraceful mob of _canaille_ had seized the person of the King, and
rendered access to him impossible for every honourable man. The country
swam in tears; the Danish land became a name of shame; the rich were
plundered; the sun of the royal house was dimmed, and every department
of the Government was given up to unscrupulous robbers, blasphemers
and enemies of humanity." After recounting at great length the danger
to which the nation had been brought by the "monster Struensee," the
pamphlet burst forth into an eloquent exhortation to Danes to arise and
defend their heritage. It called on all to rally to the standard of the
Queen-Dowager and her son, who had delivered the King and the country
from imminent peril. "Who would not praise and esteem that dangerous
but honourable night?" wrote Suhm. "Future Homers and Virgils will sing
its praises, and so long as there are any Danish and Norwegian heroes
left in the world the glory of Juliana Maria and Frederick will endure.
Heaven and earth shall pass away, but their glory shall not pass away."
This precious pamphlet was greeted with praise from the highest to the
lowest in the land. Suhm soon issued a second exhortation addressed:
"To my Countrymen--Danes, Norwegians and Holsteiners," in which he
demanded vengeance upon Struensee. Such vengeance, he declared, was
imperatively demanded for the honour of Denmark, for "all the nations
of Europe would regard a people that suffered itself to be governed by
a Struensee as a vile, cowardly people". Suhm's example was followed
by a number of anonymous scribblers, who flooded town and country
with pamphlets calling aloud for the blood of the fallen minister.
So unanimous were these pamphlets, and with such regularity did they
appear, that it provoked the suspicion that the new Government had
some hand in thus inflaming public opinion against its enemies. Not
only were Struensee, Brandt and their colleagues denounced by every
conceivable epithet, but the name of the Queen, who, though imprisoned,
was still the reigning Queen, was dragged into these effusions, and
covered with dishonour. Everything was done to foment the public rage
against her, and "Justice against Matilda" was shouted by hirelings in
the streets.
Before matters had reached this pitch, Keith had intervened on behalf
of the imprisoned Queen. It was unfortunate that Matilda, at the
time of her arrest, had not demanded to see the English minister,
and thrown herself on his protection as a princess of Great Britain.
But the thought did not cross her mind, for though Keith was anxious
and willing to help her, the Queen, in her madness for Struensee,
had rejected both the assistance and advice that had been offered
by her brother of England, and had treated his representative with
reserve. But Keith, we see by his despatches, realised the situation,
and cherished no feeling of resentment. He felt for the Queen nothing
but chivalrous pity, and determined, if possible, to shield her from
the consequences of her rashness and indiscretion. To this end he had
attended the masked ball, where he saw the Queen radiant and happy,
with no thought of the mine about to explode beneath her feet.
In the morning of January 17 Keith heard with astonishment and alarm
of the Queen-Dowager's conspiracy, and that the Queen, abandoned by
the King, had been conveyed a prisoner to the castle of Kronborg.
Rumours were current that she was in imminent peril, and that it was
proposed to execute her before the sun went down. With characteristic
determination Keith lost not a moment in acting on behalf of the Queen.
He hastened through the crowded streets to the Christiansborg Palace,
and demanded instant audience of the King. This was denied him, and
so was his request that he might be admitted to the presence of the
Queen-Dowager or her son. Nothing daunted, Keith demanded an immediate
interview with Osten, who still acted as minister of foreign affairs.
Osten, who well knew the nature of Keith's errand, tried at first to
put him off with excuses, but the envoy would not be denied, and at
last almost forced his way into Osten's cabinet, where he found him
in council with some of the other conspirators. In answer to the
envoy's inquiry, "Where is the Queen?" Osten replied that his Majesty
had found it necessary to remove his royal consort to the fortress of
Kronborg, where she would be detained until the King further signified
his pleasure, and the grave charges against her of conspiracy against
the King's authority and infidelity to his bed had been disproved.
Keith, under these circumstances, could do nothing but lodge a protest,
and demand that the Queen, as a princess of Great Britain, should
be treated with all the respect and consideration which her birth
demanded, and that, as Queen of Denmark, any proceedings against her
should follow the regular and constitutional rule of that country.
He referred to the rumours that were current of foul play, and said
that he held the Danish Government responsible for her safety, and
warned them that the King, his master, would undoubtedly declare war
against Denmark if a hair of her head were touched. After delivering
this ultimatum, Keith left the Christiansborg Palace, returned to his
own house, and wrote a long despatch to England, detailing all that
had occurred, and what he had said and done. He asked for instructions
as to how he was to proceed with regard to the new Government and the
imprisoned Queen. This done, he shut himself up in his house until the
answer should arrive.[28]
[28] _Memoirs of Sir R. Murray Keith_, vol. i. It is impossible to
quote this despatch of Keith's, as it has been destroyed. The last
available despatch of Keith's is previous to the catastrophe, and
thenceforward, until after the Queen's divorce, all the despatches
relating to the Queen are abstracted from those preserved in the State
Paper Office in London. These despatches were destroyed by order of
King George III. There is no trace either of the despatches sent by
Keith to England at this period, or of those from England to Keith,
beyond an order, later, that Keith was to bring them to England.
The popular rejoicings came to an end within a week of the palace
revolution, but the court festivities were continued some time longer.
The King frequently drove about the city in company with his brother,
and, as the ground was covered with snow, he often appeared in a
sleigh. The Queen-Dowager also showed herself in public on every
possible occasion, in marked contrast to her previous habits of rigid
seclusion. She now occupied at Frederiksberg the apartments of the
imprisoned Queen, but at the Christiansborg she retained her former
suite. Within a week of Matilda's disgrace a state banquet and ball
were held at the Christiansborg, at which the Queen-Dowager took
the place of the reigning Queen. The King's twenty-third birthday,
January 29, was celebrated all over the kingdom with great rejoicing,
and Copenhagen was decorated and illuminated in honour of the event.
In the evening the King, attended by a very large suite, witnessed
the performance at the palace theatre of two new French vaudevilles.
With a singular lack of good taste, the titles of these pieces were
"_L'Ambitieux_," and "_L'Indiscret_," and, as might be judged, they
abounded in allusions to Struensee and scarcely veiled insults of the
imprisoned Queen, who only a few days before had been the centre of
the court festivities. After the play there was a grand supper in the
knights' hall, to which the foreign envoys, ministers, and the most
distinguished of the nobility were invited. The English envoy was
absent.
The object of all these court festivities was to persuade the public
that the King shared in the universal joy. There is reason, however, to
believe that after the first few days of excitement were past, the King
began to realise that he had bettered his condition very little by the
change. He was glad to be rid of Brandt and Struensee, especially of
Brandt, but he missed the Queen, who was always kind and lively, and no
doubt if he could have seen her he would have forgiven her on the spot.
The Queen-Dowager was fully aware of this danger, and determined at all
hazards to prevent it. Already she was beginning to feel some of the
anxieties of power. Popularity is a very fleeting thing, and there were
signs that the popularity of the new Government would be ephemeral; the
recent riots of the mob, which were comparatively unchecked, had given
them a taste for similar excesses. The court lived in continual dread
of further disturbance.
A ludicrous instance of this occurred at the theatre some few days
after the revolution, when the court was at the French play. Owing
to the house being inconveniently crowded, some slight disturbance
took place in the cheaper seats. Immediately a rumour flew round the
theatre that a riot had broken out in the city, Struensee and Brandt
had escaped from prison, and the mob were setting fire to houses
and plundering everywhere. The news ran like wildfire through the
audience, and in an incredibly short space of time a scene of panic
prevailed. Every one began to make for the doors, with the result that
the confusion became worse confounded. The King was the first to take
fright, and rushed from his box, with wild looks, followed by the
Hereditary Prince. The Queen-Dowager tried in vain to detain them,
and when they were gone she was so much overcome that she fainted. A
curious crowd had collected outside the theatre, and it was not until
some time that order was restored, and the whole affair discovered to
be a hoax. But the Queen-Dowager was not reassured, and the result of
this panic was seen in a series of police regulations for the better
preservation of the public peace. The city gates, which had been left
open, were again locked at night; masters were ordered to keep their
apprentices at home after dark, and public houses were ordered to be
closed at ten o'clock.
The first step taken by the Queen-Dowager was to re-establish the
Council of State, which had been abolished by Struensee. It consisted
of Prince Frederick and the following members: Count Thott, Count
Rantzau, Councillor Schack-Rathlou, Admiral Rommeling, General
Eickstedt and Count Osten. All resolutions were discussed by the
Council of State before they received the royal assent, and the net
result of the new regulations was to take the power out of the
King's hands, and vest it in the Council, for the King's signature
was deprived of all force and validity except in council. The members
of the Council of State received in their patents the titles of
Ministers of State and Excellencies. Count Thott acted as president of
the Council in the absence of the King, and received a salary of six
thousand dollars--the other members five thousand dollars. Guldberg,
who really drew up the plan of the Council with the Queen-Dowager, and
afterwards the instructions, was not at first a member, but for all
that he was the most influential man in the Government. He and the
Queen-Dowager worked in concert, and they ruled the situation. It was
said that Juliana Maria at first entertained the idea of deposing the
King, and placing her son upon the throne, but Guldberg opposed it, and
pointed out that such a step would surely be followed by a protest from
the nation and from the foreign powers, with England at their head.
The Queen-Dowager therefore continued to play the rôle of one who had
only come forward with the greatest reluctance because her action was
urgently needed for the salvation of the King and country. This was the
line she took in a conversation with Reverdil, who was set at liberty a
few days after his arrest by her orders, and summoned to her presence.
When Reverdil entered the room, she apologised for his arrest, and
said it was a mistake, and contrary to her orders. She continued: "I
only wish I could have spared the others, but the Queen had forgotten
everything she owed to her sex, her birth and her rank. Even so, my son
and I would have refrained from interference had not her irregularities
affected the Government. The whole kingdom was upset, and going fast
to ruin. God supported me through it all; I felt neither alarm nor
terror."[29]
[29] _Mémoires de Reverdil._
The Queen-Dowager felt well disposed towards Reverdil, who had more
than once remonstrated with Struensee on the disrespect shown by him
and his minions to her and Prince Frederick. She would probably have
reinstated him in his post, but Osten and Rantzau disliked him. They
feared he might gain an influence over the King, or enter a plea of
mercy for the prisoners, or suggest to the Queen-Dowager the recall
of Bernstorff, or induce her to summon Prince Charles of Hesse to
court--both of whom disliked them. So Osten saw Reverdil and worked
upon his fears. He advised him for his own sake to leave the court,
and the honest Swiss needed no second warning, but within a week shook
the dust of Copenhagen off his feet, and so disappears from this
history.[30]
[30] After leaving Copenhagen, Reverdil lived for some time at Nyon,
and afterwards at Lausanne. He maintained a correspondence with
Prince Charles of Hesse, and lived on friendly terms with a number of
distinguished personages, including Necker, Garnier, Mesdames Necker
and De Stael, and Voltaire, who said of him: "On peut avoir autant
d'esprit que Reverdil, mais pas davantage." Reverdil lived to an
advanced age, and died in 1808 at Geneva.
The next step of the Queen-Dowager's Government was the appointment of
a commission of inquiry to conduct the investigation of Struensee,
Brandt, and the ten other prisoners, and send them for trial. This
Commission consisted of eight high officials, to whom a ninth was
eventually added. They were all known to be enemies of Struensee and
his system of government. The Commission was appointed in January,
and made it its first duty to search the houses of the prisoners,
and examine all their papers. For the purpose of taking evidence
the Commission sat daily at the Christiansborg Palace, but either
because the commissioners were uncertain how to proceed, or because of
conflicting counsels, five weeks passed before the examination of the
principal prisoners began. Every one knew that the trial was a foregone
conclusion. Keith wrote to his father before it took place: "Count
Struensee is loaded with irons, and, which is worse, with guilt, in a
common prison in the citadel. Without knowing either the particulars
of the accusations against him, or the proofs, I believe I may venture
to say that he will soon finish his wild career by the hands of the
executioner. The treatment of Count Brandt in the prison, and the race
he has run, bear so near an affinity to those of Struensee that it may
be presumed his doom will be similar."[31]
[31] Sir R. M. Keith to Mr. Keith, February 9, 1772.--_Memoirs and
Correspondence of Sir Robert Murray Keith._
Struensee and Brandt were kept confined closely to their cells, and
treated with hardship and ignominy, which would have broken the spirits
of far stronger men than they, who had been rendered soft by luxury
and self-indulgence. The day after their arrival at the citadel iron
chains were specially forged for them. These chains weighed eighteen
pounds each, and were fastened on the right hand and on the left
leg, and thence, with the length of three yards, to the wall. They
wore them day and night and never took them off. Struensee felt this
indignity bitterly, and made pitiful efforts to conceal his fetters.
Curiously enough, the smith who forged them and fastened them upon him
was a prisoner who only a year before had been in chains himself, and
then had begged Struensee for alms and his liberty. The minister had
contemptuously tossed him some pence, but refused to set him free,
saying: "You do not wear your chains on account of your virtues." When
the man, therefore, fettered Struensee to the wall, he reminded him of
the incident by saying: "Your Excellency, I do not put this chain on
you on account of your virtues."[32]
[32] _Gespräch im Reiche der Todten_ (a pamphlet).
Most of the severities inflicted on the prisoners, and especially those
on Struensee, seem rather to have been dictated from a fear that they
would attempt to commit suicide, and not in any vindictive spirit.
Neither of the prisoners was entrusted with knives and forks, but the
jailors cut up their food and carried it to their mouths. Struensee at
first tried to starve himself, but after three days the commandant sent
him word that he was to eat and drink, otherwise he would be thrashed
until his appetite returned. His buttons were cut off his clothes,
because he had swallowed two of them; his shoe-buckles were removed,
and when he tried to dash his head against the wall he was made to wear
an iron cap. Brandt escaped both the strait-waistcoat and the iron cap,
for he showed no disposition to take his life; on the contrary, he was
always cheerful, and bore his fate with a fortitude which shamed the
wretched Struensee.
[Illustration: FREDERICK, HEREDITARY PRINCE OF DENMARK, STEP-BROTHER OF
CHRISTIAN VII.]