"A DAUGHTER OF ENGLAND."
1772.
The ill-news from Denmark travelled to England in an incredibly short
space of time, considering how slow and difficult was the transmission
of news in the eighteenth century. Though nothing definite was
known, the air was full of rumours, and the gossips of the clubs
and coffee-houses were much exercised over the fate of the Queen of
Denmark. The greatest care had been taken to prevent any whisper of
the current scandal at the court of Denmark reaching the ears of the
English people. The less reputable members of the Opposition, it was
thought, would be sure to use the intrigue between the Queen and
Struensee as another weapon against the King and the Government. So
long back as December 20, 1771, we find Keith writing to Lord Suffolk
a private letter detailing the case of one Ball, an English naval
surgeon, who had offered his services in aid of the Danish expedition
against Algiers. Struensee, who hated every one English, had dismissed
his application with scant courtesy, and in revenge Ball had written an
angry letter to Struensee, threatening to expose his conduct. Keith
continues: "I can hardly suppose that Count Struensee will deign to
send an answer to this letter, but, as Mr. Ball has picked up here a
number of scandalous stories which might make a figure in a catch-penny
pamphlet, I think it my duty to let your Lordship know what may be the
possible consequence of his revenging his disappointment by appearing
in print. If the Minister was the only person whose name might be mixed
up in this altercation, I should be less anxious. Perhaps the Danish
envoy in London may obtain for Mr. Ball some additional gratuity which
will put an end to the dispute."[33]
[33] Keith's despatch, Copenhagen, December 20, 1771.
Whether Ball was muzzled or not there is no record to tell, but the
events at the Danish court having culminated in the catastrophe of
January 16, it was only a question of time for the scandal to be
bruited abroad in every court in Europe, and in England too. As early
as January 23 a London newspaper created great excitement by the
following paragraph: "It is affirmed by letters from the continent that
a royal princess is certainly detained in a tower, inaccessible to
every creature, except such as are appointed to attend her, but that an
absolute silence is imposed throughout the kingdom on this subject."[34]
[34] _General Evening Post_, January 23, 1772.
A few days later Keith's despatch arrived from Copenhagen, containing a
full account of the revolution there, and the arrest and imprisonment
of the Queen. Lord Suffolk, the foreign secretary, immediately
hastened with it to the King, who was about to hold a levee. George
III., who had already heard evil rumours, was so much overcome by this
confirmation of them that he immediately put off the levee, and the
royal family were thrown into grief and humiliation. Queen Charlotte
was highly indignant with her sister-in-law, and went into closest
retirement, declaring that she was ashamed to appear in public. The
Princess of Brunswick, Matilda's sister, who was staying in London at
the time, wept bitterly. The Princess-Dowager of Wales was seriously
ill, and the Princess of Brunswick thought that it was better that her
mother should not be told; but the King said: "My mother _will_ know
everything"; and therefore he went to her directly, and acquainted her
with the contents of Keith's despatch.
The Princess-Dowager was overwhelmed with affliction at the news of
this last family disgrace. She had seen it coming for some time, and
made every effort to recall her daughter from the error of her ways;
but her remonstrances were unheeded, and her advice neglected, and now
the ruin which she had foretold had fallen upon the Queen of Denmark.
Only a few months before the Princess-Dowager had been annoyed beyond
measure by the marriage of her youngest son, Henry Duke of Cumberland,
with Mrs. Horton, a beautiful and designing widow,[35] and she had
broken off all communication with him in consequence. Her other son,
the Duke of Gloucester, who had contracted a similar marriage, soon
to be publicly avowed, had added to her anxieties by a dangerous
illness. Her eldest daughter, the Princess of Brunswick, was unhappy
in her matrimonial relations. Therefore it is no wonder that the proud
Princess's patience gave way under this last disgrace. In the first
moments of her grief and anger she turned her face to the wall and
prayed for death, and forbade her children and her servants evermore
to mention to her the name of Matilda, who, she declared, had ceased
to be her daughter. Well might Walpole write: "Such an accumulated
succession of mortifications has rarely fallen on a royal family in so
short a space. They seem to have inherited the unpropitious star of the
Stuarts, from whom they are descended, as well as their crown."[36]
[35] The Duchess of Cumberland was the widow of Andrew Horton of
Catton, and the daughter of Simon Lord Irnham, afterwards Earl of
Carhampton. The marriage took place privately on October 2, 1771, at
the Hon. Mrs. Horton's house in Hertford Street, Mayfair. The King,
when apprised of the fact, immediately manifested his displeasure by
publishing a notice in the _London Gazette_ to the effect that such
persons as might choose to wait upon the Duke and the new Duchess would
no longer be received at St. James's. This marriage was the immediate
cause of the passing of the Royal Marriage Act, which made such
marriages (if contracted without the consent of the reigning sovereign)
in future illegal.
[36] Walpole's _Reign of George III._, vol. iv.
The dishonour of her youngest daughter, coming on the top of all
her other mortifications, proved too much even for the indomitable
spirit of the Princess-Dowager, and without doubt hastened her death.
In any case the end could not have been long delayed, for she was
dying of cancer, and her sufferings the last year of her life had
been agonising. Yet to the end she would not admit that she was ill,
and bore her pains, like her sorrows, in stern silence. George III.,
whose pride was deeply wounded by these family scandals, which brought
discredit on the throne and the dynasty, greatly sympathised with
his mother. Doubtless he took counsel with her as to how he was to
act to save his sister Matilda from the worst consequences of her
indiscretion, but at first he seems to have done nothing. Perhaps this
inaction was due to his great anxiety concerning his mother's health.
He had always been devoted to her, and was now unremitting in his
attentions. He visited her every evening at eight o'clock, and remained
some hours; but though the Princess was gradually sinking before his
eyes, even he did not dare to hint to her that the end was near.
The night before she died the King was so anxious that he anticipated
his visit by an hour, pretending that he had mistaken the time, and he
brought with him Queen Charlotte. Even then, with the hand of death
upon her, the Princess-Dowager rose up and dressed as usual to receive
her son and daughter-in-law. She made not the slightest allusion to her
state of health, though she kept them in conversation for four hours on
other topics. On their rising to take their leave, she said that she
should pass a quiet night. The King, who feared she might die at any
moment, did not return home, but, unknown to his mother, remained at
Carlton House. The Princess-Dowager fought hard for life the first part
of the night, but towards morning it became evident even to herself
that the end was imminent. She asked her physician how long she had to
live. He hesitated. "No matter," she said, "for I have nothing to say,
nothing to do, nothing to leave."[37] An hour later she was dead. She
died so suddenly that the King, although he was resting in an adjoining
room, was not in time to be with his mother when she breathed her last.
He gained her bedside immediately after, took her hand, kissed it, and
burst into tears.
[37] Mrs. Carter's _Letters_, vol. iv.
The Princess-Dowager of Wales died in the fifty-third year of her age,
at six o'clock in the morning, on February 8, 1772, not long after the
terrible news had arrived from Denmark. She therefore died without
hearing again of her daughter Matilda. "The calmness and composure of
her death," wrote Bishop Newton, her domestic chaplain, "were further
proofs and attestations of the goodness of her life; and she died, as
she lived, beloved and lamented most by those who knew her best."[38]
No sooner was this princess, who was cruelly abused all her life,
dead, than the papers were filled with praise of her virtues. "Never
was a more amiable, a more innocent, or a more benevolent princess,"
wrote one, and this was the theme, with variations, of the rest.
Without endorsing all this eulogy, it must be admitted that the
Princess-Dowager of Wales was in many ways a princess high above the
average. Few women have been more harshly judged, and none on so little
evidence. Insult and calumny followed her to the grave. A few days
before she died a scandalous libel appeared, and the disgrace of the
daughter was seized on as a weapon to attack once more the mother. An
indecent scribbler, who signed himself "Atticus," wrote in the _Public
Advertiser_ of the revolution at Copenhagen as follows:--
"The day was fixed: _a Favourite fell_. Methinks I hear the Earl of
Bute whisper to his poor affrighted soul, and every corner of his
hiding places murmur these expressions: 'God bless us! A known and
established Favourite ruined in a single night by a near neighbour--the
frenzy may reach this country, and I am undone. Englishmen too are
haters of favourites and Scotchmen. Those old rascally Whig families,
whose power and virtues seem almost lost, may reunite. In the meantime,
I must do something--a lucky thought occurs to me. I'll fill the minds
of the people with prejudices against those haughty Danes. Bradshaw
Dyson shall bribe the printers to suppress any contradictory reports.
Englishmen are always ready to vindicate injured virtue at any expense;
therefore nothing shall be heard but the _honour of the King's
sister_!'"
[38] _Bishop Newton's Life of Himself_, vol. i.
Thus, even when the poor woman lay dying, the old prejudice was
revived. Then, as for a quarter of a century before, the pivot on which
all this slander turned was the precise nature of the friendship
between the Princess and Lord Bute--a matter which surely concerned no
one except themselves. Her arch-maligner, Horace Walpole, put the worst
construction on this intimacy, and her political enemies endorsed his
verdict. But Walpole hated the Princess-Dowager, because she refused to
recognise in any way the marriage of his favourite niece to the Duke
of Gloucester. The evil construction placed upon the friendship, as
Lord Chesterfield said, "was founded on mere conjectures". The whole
life of the Princess-Dowager--the decorum of her conduct, the order and
regularity of her household, her strict principles, the reticence of
her character, and the coldness of her temperament--give it the lie.
The eighteenth century, with its gross pleasures and low ideals, could
not understand a disinterested friendship between a man and a woman,
and, not understanding, condemned it. Yet there is much to show that
this friendship was of that high order of affection which eliminates
all thought of self or sex. It lasted for long years; it was marked
by complete trust and confidence on the woman's side, by loyalty and
chivalry on the man's. It never wavered through good report or ill;
opposition and insult served to strengthen it, and it was broken only
by death. There must have been something very noble in the woman who
won such allegiance, and in the man who rendered it.
The news from Copenhagen created an extraordinary sensation in
London. The ladies were whispering all sorts of naughtiness behind
their fans concerning Queen Matilda and Struensee; the gossips in the
coffee-houses were retailing fresh bits of scandal every day, and the
politicians were betting on the possibilities of a war with Denmark.
Public opinion at first seemed to be on the side of the young Queen.
Some of the papers already demanded that a fleet should be sent to
Denmark to vindicate the honour of the British Princess, who was
generally spoken of as the "Royal Innocent". The following may be
quoted as a specimen of these effusions:--
"Recollect the manner in which that lady [Queen Matilda] was educated,
and that, when delivered into the hands of her husband she was in the
full possession of every virtue. All the graces were in her; she knew
nothing but what was good. Can it then, with any degree of reason, be
concluded that in so short a time the lady could forget every virtuous
precept, and abandon herself to infamy? My dear countrymen, it cannot
be, and until we have a certainty of guilt, believe it not, though an
angel from Copenhagen should affirm it."[39]
[39] _General Evening Post_, February 8, 1772.
The popular curiosity was heightened by the profound secrecy observed
by the court and government. So far, nothing definite was known; the
King and his ministers were naturally silent. The illness and death
of his mother had hindered the King from taking action on Keith's
despatch, and while he was hesitating, another communication arrived
from Copenhagen. This was a letter addressed by that wily diplomatist,
Osten, to the Danish envoy in London, Baron Dieden, with instructions
that he was to communicate its contents to Lord Suffolk at once. This
letter threw a different complexion on the affair to that of Keith's
despatch. It assumed the guilt of the Queen, and urged that the King
of Denmark was only within his rights in removing his consort from
the contaminating presence of her favourite. The matter, Osten urged,
was of so delicate and personal a nature that it could not be treated
properly by ministers or envoys. The King of Denmark, when he had
recovered from the affliction into which the knowledge of his consort's
infidelity had plunged him, would write to his brother of England with
his own hand, and he trusted that his Britannic Majesty would suspend
judgment until then. A few days later Dieden received another despatch
from Osten, enclosing a sealed letter from Christian VII. to George
III., and the Danish envoy delivered this letter into the King's hands
at once. This letter, which no doubt Christian had been induced to copy
by the dictation of the Queen-Dowager and her advisers, took the same
line as Osten's despatch, though of course it was written in a more
intimate and confidential tone, not only as between brother monarchs,
but near relatives.
George III., who was already prejudiced against his sister by the way
in which she had slighted his advice, and ignored his remonstrances,
was not averse from dealing with the difficulty in this way. Though he
greatly disliked his cousin, the King of Denmark, and knew the insults
and cruelties which had been heaped upon his unhappy sister, yet, as
he was of a most moral and domestic nature, he could not find in them
any justification for her conduct, and he regarded her offence, if
proved, with horror. Osten's representations were so plausible that
the King, when he received Christian VII.'s letter, replied to it in
no unyielding spirit; he reserved his judgment, but demanded that
his sister should be treated fairly, and every possible respect and
indulgence be shown to her. He would not go behind his envoy's back,
in the manner suggested by Osten, for he rightly judged that Keith,
being on the spot, would be thoroughly informed of the situation.
He therefore gave his letter to Suffolk to transmit to Keith, with
instructions that he was to have a personal audience of the King
forthwith, and to deliver it into his hands. At the same time Lord
Suffolk wrote a despatch to Keith asking for fuller information, and
conveying to him in a special manner his Sovereign's approbation of his
conduct.
Keith all this time had remained shut up in his house, in Copenhagen,
awaiting instructions from England, and unable, until he received
them, to do anything on behalf of the unhappy Queen. The answer to his
despatch did not arrive for nearly a month. When at last it came, "in
the shape of a sealed square packet, it was placed in Colonel Keith's
hands, and they trembled, and he shook all over as he cut the strings.
The parcel flew open, and the Order of the Bath fell at his feet. The
insignia had been enclosed by the King's own hands, with a despatch
commanding him to invest himself forthwith, and appear at the Danish
court."[40] What instructions the despatch contained will never be
known; but that George III. entirely approved of the way in which his
representative had acted is shown by a letter which Lord Suffolk wrote
at the same time to Keith's father:--
"I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of acquainting you with the
eminent merit of your son, his Majesty's minister at Copenhagen, and
the honourable testimony his Majesty has been pleased to give of his
approbation by conferring on him the Order of the Bath. The ability,
spirit and dignity with which Sir Robert Keith has conducted himself
in a very delicate and difficult position has induced his Majesty
to accompany the honour he bestows with very particular marks of
distinction."[41]
[40] _Memoirs of Sir Robert Murray Keith._
[41] Lord Suffolk, secretary of state for foreign affairs, to R. Keith,
Esq., February 28, 1772.
Fortified with these marks of his Sovereign's approval, and armed with
the King's letter, Keith, for the first time for many weeks, emerged
from his house, and proceeded to the Christiansborg Palace, where he
demanded a private audience of the King of Denmark. The audience was
promised on the morrow, but when Keith again repaired to the palace,
and was conducted to the ante-chamber of the King's apartments, he
was astonished at seeing, instead of the King, Osten and some of the
newly appointed ministers, who informed him that, his Majesty not being
well, they had been charged to receive the envoy's communication,
and convey it to the King. Keith replied with some indignation that
his orders were to deliver his letter into the King's own hands, and
he did not understand why his Danish Majesty, after he had consented
to give him audience, should refer him to his ministers. But the
ministers only politely expressed their regret, and said they were
acting under the King's orders. The whole scene of course was planned
by the Queen-Dowager, who had her own reasons for keeping the English
envoy away from the King, as she was determined at all hazards that
Matilda should be deposed and disgraced. Keith, who realised that there
was something behind, and saw the futility of further remonstrance,
reluctantly surrendered the letter; but he added that he should not
fail to inform his Sovereign of the way in which he had been treated.
He moreover said that his royal master's letter was a private one to
the King, but that he himself had authority to state to the ministers
that, if the Queen of Denmark were not treated with all the respect
due to her birth and rank, her royal brother of England would not fail
to resent it in a manner that would make Denmark tremble. He then
withdrew.
Keith must have written a very strongly worded despatch to Lord
Suffolk, exposing the trickery of the Danish court, and probably
hinting at the Queen's danger, for though the despatches which passed
between him and Suffolk at this time are missing, we know that they
became graver and more serious in tone. The relations between the two
countries seemed likely to be broken off, for the Danish envoy in
England, Dieden, followed Keith's example, and shut himself up in his
house until he should receive instructions. When these instructions
came, they could not have been satisfactory, for when the Danish envoy
next appeared at court, George III. pointedly ignored him, which the
minister resented by standing out of the circle, and laughing and
talking with the Prussian minister, whose master also had a dispute
with England at this time. Moreover, the Prussian minister had given
offence to the King by talking too freely about the scandal at the
Danish court. On one occasion he asked a court official with a sneer:
"What has become of your Queen of Denmark?"--to which the Englishman
made quick reply: "Apparently she is at Spandau with your Princess of
Prussia"--a princess who had been divorced for adultery.
The secrecy which still reigned over everything concerning the King's
sister, and the dilatory nature of the negotiations, led to much
unfavourable comment in England. The mystery of the Queen of Denmark
continued to be the only topic of discussion, both in public and
private. Notwithstanding all precautions, well-informed people formed a
very shrewd idea of what had taken place at Copenhagen. For instance,
on February 28, 1772, Mrs. Carter wrote to Mrs. Vesey: "I have very
little intelligence to send you from Denmark, as there is a profound
silence at St. James's on this subject. You know that the unhappy
young Queen is imprisoned in a castle dashed by the waves, where she
is kept in very strict confinement. I am persuaded you would think it
an alleviation of her misfortunes if I could tell you it is the very
castle once haunted by Hamlet's ghost, but of this I have no positive
assurance, though, as it is at Elsinur, I think such an imagination as
yours and mine may fairly enough make out the rest. In the letter that
the King of Denmark wrote to ours, he only mentioned in general terms
that the Queen had behaved in a manner which obliged him to imprison
her, but that from regard to his Majesty her life should be safe."[42]
[42] Mrs. Carter's _Letters_, vol. iv.
The thought that the young and beautiful Queen--a British princess--was
ill-treated and imprisoned, and possibly even in danger of her
life, and her brother would not interpose on her behalf, created an
extraordinary sensation, and the Opposition, thinking any stick good
enough wherewith to belabour the King and his ministers, did not fail
to turn the situation to account. It formed the subject of one of the
most powerful letters of Junius, who made a terrific onslaught on both
the King and the Prime Minister, Lord North, from which we take the
following extracts:--
"MY LORD,
"I have waited with a degree of impatience natural to a man
who wishes well to his country for your lordship's ministerial
interposition on behalf of an injured Princess of England, the
Queen-Consort of Denmark.... An insignificant Northern Potentate
is honoured by a matrimonial alliance with the King of England's
sister. A confused rumour prevails, that she has been false to his
bed; the tale spreads; a particular man is pointed out as the object
of her licentious affections. Our hopeful Ministry are, however,
quite silent: despatches, indeed, are sent off to Copenhagen, but
the contents of those despatches are so profound a secret, that with
me it almost amounts to a question whether you [Lord North] yourself
know anything of the matter.... In private life the honour of a
sister is deemed an affair of infinite consequence to a brother. A
man of sentiment is anxious to convince his friends and neighbours
that the breath of slander hath traduced her virtue; and he seizes,
with avidity, every extenuating circumstance that can contribute
to extenuate her offence, or demonstrate her innocence beyond the
possibility of cavil. Is our pious Monarch cast in a different mould
from that of his people? Or is he taught to believe that the opinion
of his subjects has no manner of relation to his own felicity? Are
_you_, my Lord, [North] quite devoid of feeling? Have you no warm
blood that flows round your heart, that gives your frame a thrilling
soft sensation, and makes your bosom glow with affections ornamental
to man as a social creature? For shame, my Lord! However wrong you
act, you must know better; you must be conscious that the people
have a right to be informed of every transaction which concerns
the welfare of the state. They are part of a mighty empire, which
flourishes only as their happiness is promoted; they have a kind
of claim in every person belonging to the royal lineage. How then
can they possibly remain neuter, and see their Princess imprisoned
by banditti and northern Vandals?... There is a barbarous ferocity
which still clings to the inhabitants of the north, and renders
their government subject to perpetual convulsions; but the Danes, I
fancy, will be found the only people in our times who have dared to
proceed to extremities that alarmed Europe, nay, dared to imprison an
English princess without giving even the shadow of a public reason
for their conduct.... The present Machiavelian Dowager Julia may
send the young Queen's soul to Heaven in a night, and through the
shameless remissness of you, Lord North, as Prime Minister of this
unhappy country, the public may remain ignorant of every circumstance
relative to the murder. Be not, however, deceived: the blood of
our Sovereign's sister shall not be suffered to cry in vain for
vengeance: it _shall_ be heard, it _shall_ be revenged, and, what is
still more, it shall besprinkle Lord North, and thus affix a stigma
on his forehead, which shall make him wander, like another Cain,
accursed through the world."[43]
[43] This letter, signed "Junius," appeared in the _Gentleman's
Magazine_, March 3, 1772.
This attack naturally called forth a counter-attack, and before long
the guilt, or innocence, of the King's sister was as hotly debated
in the public press as in the clubs and coffee-houses. But neither
the thunders of Junius, nor the shrill cries of those who took the
opposite view, made any difference to Lord North, and the nature of
the negotiations which were going on between England and Denmark
remained as much a mystery as ever. When pressed in Parliament on the
subject, the Prime Minister contented himself with answering, with his
usual air of frankness, that, unless expressly ordered to do so by the
House, he would not reveal so delicate a matter, and in this he was
supported by the good sense of the House, which had no wish to see the
disgrace of the King's sister form a subject of debate within the walls
of Parliament. Moreover, at this stage it was not a question which
concerned ministers, but the King, and the blame for what followed
must be laid not on their shoulders, but on his. George III. believed
his sister guilty, and did not weigh sufficiently the extenuating
circumstances, which, whether guilty or innocent, could be urged in her
favour. He did not act at first with that firmness which the situation
undoubtedly demanded. The Queen-Dowager of Denmark and her advisers
believed the King of England to be luke-warm, and consequently
proceeded against his unhappy sister with every circumstance of cruelty
and malevolence. If even her brother would not defend her, Matilda was
indeed abandoned to the vengeance of her enemies.