THE IMPRISONED QUEEN.
1772.
All this time the unfortunate Matilda remained at Kronborg, with
no consolation except that she was permitted to retain the infant
princess. She was still very closely guarded, but after Keith's
spirited protest, the rigours of her imprisonment were slightly abated.
Some clothes and other necessaries were sent her from Copenhagen, and
by way of keeping up the fiction that she was treated with the respect
due to her birth and rank, her suite was increased, and two gentlemen
of the bed-chamber and two maids-of-honour were sent to Kronborg.
Their duties must have been light, for, confined as the Queen was to
one small chamber, they could rarely have seen their mistress during
the first months of her sojourn in the fortress. But their presence at
Kronborg was a device of the Queen-Dowager to throw dust in the eyes
of the English and other courts, for the misfortunes of Matilda were
now the subject of conversation in every court in Europe. Moreover,
the persons sent to Kronborg were all, as Juliana Maria well knew,
personally disliked by the young Queen, and they went rather in the
capacity of spies than servants of her household. As it afterwards
appeared at her trial, even the women who waited on the Queen were
really spies, and her most casual expressions and trifling actions
were distorted by these menials into evidence against her. Matilda was
allowed no communication with the outer world, and she asked her maid,
a woman named Arnsberg, what had become of Struensee. The woman told
her he was imprisoned in the citadel. The Queen wept, and asked: "Is
he in chains? Has he food to eat? Does he know that I am imprisoned
here?" These questions, natural enough under the circumstances, were
duly noted by the treacherous woman, and afterwards put in as evidence
against the Queen at her trial.
When the first shock was over Matilda bore her imprisonment with
fortitude. Her youth and strong constitution were in her favour,
and she kept well, notwithstanding her deprivations. We find Keith
writing a month after the Queen's imprisonment: "The Queen of Denmark
enjoys perfect health in Hamlet's castle. I wish the punishment of her
cruellest _enemies_, the late Minister, Struensee, and his associates,
were over, that the heat of party might subside, and her Majesty's
situation be altered for the better."[44]
[44] Keith's letter to his father, February 14, 1772.
[Illustration: THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.
_From an Engraving._]
In her lonely prison Matilda had ample time for reflection. She
reviewed the events of the past few months and her present situation,
and she saw, now that it was too late, that the advice and
remonstrances of her mother and brother had been given in all good
faith. She saw, too, that any hope of deliverance must come from
England, and that she could expect nothing from her imbecile husband
and the relentless Queen-Dowager and her adherents. For weeks she was
kept uncertain of the fate that awaited her; her attendants either
would not, or could not, give her any information on this head, and
she lived in constant dread of assassination. In her anxiety and alarm
she is said to have written impassioned appeals from Kronborg to Keith
in Copenhagen, and to her brother George III., throwing herself on the
protection of Great Britain.[45] Without accepting the genuineness of
any particular letter, it is certain that the Queen managed to enter
into communication with Keith, though he was not permitted to see her.
Keith had great difficulty with Osten, who spoke fair to his face but
granted nothing.
[45] These letters were first published in the English papers early in
April, 1772, and the fact that they so appeared is sufficient to cast
grave doubts upon their genuineness. It is most unlikely that such
letters would have been allowed to pass out of safe keeping. On the
contrary, the greatest care was taken that every letter and despatch
to England bearing on the Queen's case should be kept secret, and they
were afterwards destroyed by order of George III.
In the middle of February the news of the death of the Princess-Dowager
of Wales reached Copenhagen, and Keith made some attempt to break the
distressing intelligence to the imprisoned Queen by word of mouth.
But here, too, he was foiled by Osten, who would only suffer the
intelligence to be communicated to the Queen in a formal letter.
Matilda was greatly distressed at her mother's death, for she knew
that she had lost not only her mother, but also a protectress, whose
influence with the King of England was all-powerful. To her grief must
also have been added a sense of remorse, for she had parted with her
mother in anger; she knew, too, how the Princess's proud spirit must
have been abased by the news of her misfortunes, and this probably
hastened her death. Yet, even so, Matilda could not forget the man who
had brought her to this miserable pass; she hardly thought of herself;
all her anxiety was for him and his safety. That he had brought her to
shame and ruin made no difference to her love; all her prayers and all
her thoughts were of him. Her love was now but a memory, but it was one
she cherished dearer than life itself.
Probably it was the knowledge of this impenitent condition (for
everything Matilda said or did was reported through spies) that made
Juliana Maria provide spiritual consolation for the hapless captive.
The Queen-Dowager was a fanatical woman, who had no charity but much
bigotry; it is possible, therefore, that she may have been sincere in
her wish to "convert" Matilda. At least, that is the only excuse that
can be offered for the insults which were heaped upon the unfortunate
young Queen in the name of religion. Acting on the instructions of
the Queen-Dowager, the commandant of Kronborg every Sunday morning
compelled his royal prisoner to come out of her small room, where
at least she had the refuge of seclusion, and marched her over the
rough stones of the courtyard to the chapel of the fortress.[46]
There, seated in a pew with a guard on either side, and the ladies
and gentlemen of her household (who put in an appearance on these
occasions) behind her, the poor Queen was thundered at ferociously
by the garrison preacher, one Chemnitz, who, also acting under
instructions, preached at her for an hour together, and hurled at her
head the fiercest insults from the safe shelter of his pulpit. For
instance, on one Sunday he chose as his text: "And the people shall
take them, and bring them to their place: and the house of Israel
shall possess them in the land of the Lord for servants and handmaids:
and they shall take them captives, whose captives they were; and they
shall rule over their oppressors" (Isa. xiv. 2). On alternate Sundays
another preacher, named Hansen, took up the parable, and was even more
violent than his colleague. On one occasion he hurled at the Queen
the following text: "Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy
garments like him that treadeth in the winefat?" (Isa. lxiii. 2), and
then proceeded to draw a parallel between the hapless prisoner and the
scarlet woman. What added to the indignity of these cruel insults was
the fact that they were addressed to the Queen in the presence of the
other prisoners, many of them common criminals, and in the face of the
rough soldiers of the fortress. But the exhortations of these Boanerges
fell on deaf ears, so far as the Queen was concerned. It was noticed
that she went very white, but she otherwise showed no sign of emotion.
She left the chapel as she had entered it, with her head held haughtily
erect, and a dignified air. Though naturally the most kind-hearted and
unassuming of women, this royal daughter of England could summon all
her dignity to her aid when she chose, and look every inch a queen.
It was impossible to humiliate Matilda; nor were these the methods to
win her from the error of her ways. When the preachers sought to gain
admittance to her cell, she absolutely refused to see them, and showed
so much determination that they dared not force their way into her
presence. She might be dragged to the chapel and publicly pilloried,
that she suffered under protest; but the men who had so insulted her
she positively declined to receive, and all exhortations and threats
were unavailing. But though the insults of the preachers failed to
shake Matilda's composure, her enemies, of whom Juliana Maria was the
chief, had at last obtained a document by which they hoped to humble
her proud head to the dust.
[46] The chapel is a handsome building, with a vaulted stone roof, and
a gallery running round it. The walls are elaborately painted, and
pulpit and stalls adorned with wood-carving by German masters. The
chapel was restored in 1843, but, except for the pews, it presents much
the same appearance as it did in Matilda's day. It is now used as a
garrison chapel, for Kronborg is no longer a prison.
By the third week of February the commissioners appointed to collect
evidence against the state prisoners at Copenhagen had concluded their
investigations, and were ready to examine the two principal offenders,
preliminary to sending them to trial. Struensee was taken first. He
had now been in close confinement five weeks; the heavy irons, the
rough treatment and the mental anxiety had told upon his health,
already failing before he went to prison. It was a feeble, broken
man, very different to the arrogant minister of former days, who was
dragged forth from his dungeon to be interrogated before the Commission
on February 20. Extraordinary precautions were taken to guard the
prisoner. The examination took place within the walls of the citadel,
though in another part of the fortress--the house of the commandant.
The two gates of the citadel were closed the whole day, and in the city
the garrison and burgher guard were patrolled in readiness for any
outbreak. At ten o'clock Struensee was taken across the yard of the
citadel in the commandant's coach, under the guard of an officer and
six men, to the hall of examination. As the morning was very cold he
was permitted to wear his fur coat, and before he was brought into the
room where the Commission was sitting, his fetters were taken off. He
trembled violently while his chains were being removed, but this may
have been due to physical causes, for he had worn them day and night
for five weeks, and they were very heavy. He could scarcely stand, so
he was allowed to sit in an armchair when he confronted his enemies.
Notwithstanding his weak condition, Struensee astonished the
commissioners by his calmness, and the collected way in which he
answered their questions. He declared that all the orders he had given
to the military during the last weeks of his administration were
precautions to ensure the public safety, and he scouted the idea of his
alleged plot against the person and authority of the King, of which,
indeed, no vestige of proof existed. The first day his examination
lasted nearly eight hours, from ten o'clock in the morning until two,
and again from half-past four in the afternoon until seven o'clock
in the evening. At the close Struensee was again put in irons, and
conducted back to his dungeon.
The next morning he was brought forth again, and examined from
ten o'clock until two. At none of these sittings did the prisoner
inculpate himself in the slightest degree. At the third examination
he was closely questioned with regard to his intimacy with the Queen,
but he made no confession, and, on the contrary, declared that
his relations with her were innocent. It is said that one of the
commission, Councillor Braem, having spoken roughly to the prisoner
because he would not admit his guilt, Struensee calmly told him to
imitate his tranquillity, and added that the affair surely concerned
him more than anybody else. Incensed by this calmness Braem threatened
him with torture, and said that instruments were ready in the next
room which would tear the truth from the most obstinate criminal.
Struensee replied that he had already spoken the truth, and he did not
fear torture.[47] The third examination closed at half-past two on
the second day without any admissions having been extorted from the
prisoner. In the interval the commissioners conferred together, and
determined to change their tactics.
[47] According to Reverdil, it is doubtful whether Struensee was
threatened with torture, or, if he were, Braem exceeded his functions.
In any case, the threat was an idle one, for the instruments were not
prepared.
So far they had told Struensee nothing of what had happened to
Queen Matilda, but thought to entrap him by leaving him in complete
ignorance of the details of the palace revolution. At a loss to explain
Struensee's calmness, they now shrewdly guessed that he was counting on
the protection of the young Queen. It was remembered that he had often
boasted, in the hour of his prosperity, that no harm could come to him,
for the Queen was absolutely identified with all his measures, and to
attack him would be to attack her too; she was his shield against his
enemies. He never dreamed that they would dare to attack her, for she
had absolute ascendency over the King, and moreover was the sister of a
powerful reigning monarch, who would assuredly defend her from peril,
or at least would use all his influence to prevent a scandal for the
honour of his house. When, therefore, the prisoner was again summoned
before his examiners, they told him without more ado that, if he were
trusting to the protection of the Queen, he was trusting to a broken
reed: the Queen herself was arrested and imprisoned, and would shortly
be put upon her trial, with the consent of the King of England, who,
equally with his Danish Majesty, viewed with abhorrence the guilty
connection between her and Struensee. He might therefore as well make a
clean breast of it, for everything would assuredly become known.
The effect produced on the prisoner's shattered nerves by this
revelation was all that his enemies hoped; Struensee was completely
overcome, and broke down at once. So confidently had he counted on
the Queen's protection that, now he learned she was in the same
plight as himself, all his firmness forsook him; he burst into tears
and lamentations, and begged to be allowed to retire to regain his
composure. But the commissioners were careful not to allow this
opportunity to pass; they pressed home their advantage with renewed
questions and threats, even holding out hopes of mercy if he would tell
the truth. Before long Struensee, instead of "lying like a gentleman,"
confessed without reserve that his familiarity with the Queen had been
carried to the furthest limit. The commissioners did not conceal their
exultation; this base confession did more than anything else to brand
the man before them as a profligate adventurer.
Some extenuation might be urged for Struensee if in a moment of
terror and confusion he had been taken off his guard and blurted out
the truth, or if on consideration he had recalled his words; but
his subsequent conduct leaves no room for this extenuation. There is
no doubt that he thought, by dragging the Queen (now that she could
no longer protect him) into the mud with himself, he would save his
shameful life. He probably argued that a public trial would be avoided
for the honour of the royal houses of Denmark and England, the affair
would be hushed up, and he would be allowed to escape with banishment.
It is more than probable that his crafty examiners held out this
inducement for the wretched man to confess everything. Struensee needed
little encouragement, for, having once embarked upon his story, he
seemed to take a positive pleasure in telling the most unnecessary
details. He evidently thought that the more deeply he incriminated
the Queen, the better chance he would have of saving his life. Not
content with this, the pitiful coward threw all the blame upon her--an
inexperienced woman fourteen years younger than himself, who loved him
to her destruction, who had showered benefits upon him, and to whom he
owed everything. It was the old story, "_The woman tempted me_."
There is no need to quote in full here the confession of this wretched
man. He not only made it once but repeated it with ample details four
days later; these details were marked by a total absence of reticence,
and even decency. According to this confession--and it must be
remembered that the man who made it was a liar as well as a coward--the
intimate relations between the Queen and himself began in the spring
of 1770, not long before the tour in Holstein. The Queen first gave
him marks of her affection at a masquerade; he strove to check the
intimacy, and afterwards to break it off, but without success. He even
quoted the rudeness and lack of respect with which it was notorious he
had frequently treated the Queen to prove the truth of his statement.
He declared that he had been obliged to continue the intimacy lest he
should lose his mistress's confidence--that he was thus "placed in the
alternative of ruining his fortunes, or succumbing to the will of the
Queen". This shameful confession Struensee signed.
Having now got all they wanted, the commissioners dismissed Struensee
to his dungeon until they should have further need of him. The traitor
retired well pleased with himself. Hope sprang once more within his
breast, and this was fostered by several indulgences now shown to him.
He was allowed to be shaved, his diet was made fuller, and he was given
wine. His valet was permitted to attend him under strict order of
silence. The man, who was devoted to his master, brought with him the
silver toilet bowls and perfume bottles--they were suffered to remain
in the cell, mute testimony of the change from effeminate luxury to
sordid misery.
Armed with Struensee's confession, the Government at last felt equal to
dealing with the imprisoned Queen. Hitherto they had been in difficulty
how to proceed. From the beginning of her incarceration the Queen, on
being told whereof she was accused, had passionately demanded a fair
trial. She was now informed that she would receive it.
On March 8, 1772, a fortnight after Struensee's confession, a special
commission, acting in the King's name (though he was probably ignorant
of the proceedings, or at any rate indifferent to them), arrived
at Kronborg--nominally for the purpose of examining the Queen, in
reality to extort from her by fair means or foul a confirmation of
the confession made by Struensee. It was imperative that her enemies
should obtain it, for it would justify the Queen's treatment to the
English Government, which, owing to the exertions of Keith, was
becoming unpleasantly troublesome in its demands. It is said that Keith
had contrived by some means to secretly warn the imprisoned Queen of
the impending arrival of the commissioners, so that she should not be
taken by surprise. He advised her that she should receive them with
calmness, and treat them as subjects who had come to pay court to their
Queen; when they began to interrogate her, she would do well to say
that she had no answer to give them; she could not recognise their
right to question her, as she recognised no superior, or judge, but her
lord the King, to whom alone she would account for her actions. But
unfortunately Keith knew nothing of Struensee's confession.
The commission consisted of two members of the Council of State--Count
Otto Thott and Councillor Schack-Rathlou[48]--who were well known
to the Queen in the days of her prosperity, and two members
of the committee of investigation who had examined Struensee,
Baron Juell-Wind, a judge of the Supreme Court, and Stampe, the
Attorney-General. These four men, it is scarcely necessary to say, had
been opponents of the Struensee administration. As the Queen's room
was too small to admit all these men, some of whom could hardly have
stood upright in it, the commission sat in the large hall adjoining,
generally used for the guard--a room with a painted ceiling and
pictures of Danish worthies around the walls. There, when they had
arranged themselves at a table, with pens, ink and paper, her Majesty
was informed that they awaited her pleasure.
[48] Joachim Otto Schack-Rathlou, Minister of State (1728-1800).
The Queen did not respond immediately to the summons, but first
robed herself with care. Presently she entered the room, followed
by her women. She acknowledged with a bow the salutations of the
commissioners, who rose at her entrance, and then, passing to a chair,
waved to them to be seated. She was very pale, but otherwise her
bearing showed majestic dignity and composure. The commissioners, who
had expected to find her broken down by weeks of solitary suffering and
suspense, were astonished at this reception, and for a moment knew not
how to proceed. Schack-Rathlou, who owed the Queen a grudge for the
part which he unjustly believed she had played against him, undertook
to begin the examination. For some time this proved fruitless. The
commissioners found the Queen armed at all points: she admitted
nothing, denied their right to question her, and, when she answered
under protest, her replies were of the briefest. Though she was
examined and cross-examined by the four men, two of whom were eminent
lawyers, she showed neither confusion nor hesitation. It was evident
that the Queen could not be made to incriminate herself by fair means;
therefore the commissioners resolved to resort to foul ones. They could
not threaten her with torture, so they determined to surprise her in
the same way as Struensee had been surprised, and throw her off her
guard.
Schack-Rathlou, who acted as president of the commission, therefore
told the Queen that, as she would admit nothing of her own free will,
it was their duty to inform her that they held damning evidence of
her guilt. Thereupon he produced Struensee's confession, and read it
aloud. For the first time during the examination the Queen showed
signs of emotion; she flushed either with shame or anger at the
scandalous accusations, but she listened without interruption to the
end. Then, when Schack-Rathlou put the formal question to her, she
denied everything with passionate indignation, and declared that it was
impossible that Struensee could have made such shameful statements, the
document must be a forgery. For answer, Schack-Rathlou held the paper
up before the Queen, that she might read with her own eyes Struensee's
signature. The Queen took a hasty glance, and recognising the
well-known characters, she uttered an exclamation of horror, fell back
in her chair, and covered her face with her hands. The commissioners
had trapped their victim at last.
Presently Schack-Rathlou leaned across the table, and said
significantly: "If Struensee's confession be not true, Madam, then
there is no death cruel enough for this monster, who has dared to
compromise you to such an extent." At these words Matilda let her hands
fall from her face, and gazed with startled eyes at her merciless
accusers. All her self-possession had fled, and for the moment she was
utterly unnerved. She understood the covert menace only too well: by
thus maligning the reigning Queen he was liable to death by the law of
Denmark, and death the most barbarous and degrading. She still loved
this man; even his shameful betrayal of her had not weakened her love.
It had probably been extorted from him by trickery and torture; in any
case, she refused to judge him. He had brought all the happiness she
had known into her life; if he now brought shame and ruin, she would
forgive him for the sake of the happiness that was gone. She had sworn
never to abandon him, and should she now, because of one false step,
throw him to the wolves? No! She would save him, even though it cost
her her honour and her crown.
These thoughts flashed through the Queen's brain as she confronted
her judges. Then she gripped with her hands the arms of her chair,
and, leaning forward, said: "But if I were to avow these words of
Struensee to be true, could I save his life by doing so?" The lie was
ready: "Surely, Madam," said Schack-Rathlou, "that would be adduced
in his favour, and would quite alter the situation. You have only to
sign this." So saying, he spread out a document already prepared,
which the commissioners had brought with them. In it the Queen was
made to confirm Struensee's confession. The unhappy Queen glanced at
it hurriedly. "Ah, well! I will sign," she said. She seized the pen
which Schack-Rathlou thrust into her hand, and wrote her signature to a
document that would ruin her for ever. She had hardly done so when she
fell back fainting.[49]
[49] According to _Falckenskjold's Memoirs_ and the _Authentische
Aufklärungen_, the Queen nearly fainted after writing the first
two syllables--"Caro--," but Schack-Rathlou seized her hand, and,
guiding it, added the remainder, "--line Matilda". This story bears a
remarkable resemblance to one related of Matilda's ancestress, Mary
Queen of Scots, when forced to sign her abdication in the castle of
Lochleven. Unfortunately for the truth of it, the document which the
Queen signed is still preserved in the royal archives of Copenhagen,
and the signature shows no sign of a break.
When the Queen recovered, the commissioners had gone, and with them the
fatal document; only the women who spied upon her remained, and the
guards who had come to conduct her back to her chamber. When Matilda
reached it, she threw herself on her pallet, and, clasping the little
Princess in her arms, gave way to unavailing lamentation. It is stated
by some authorities that the threat of taking her child away from her
was also used by the commissioners to extort her signature, and the
promise was made that, if she avowed her guilt, the child would remain.
This promise, if given, like all others, was subsequently falsified;
but at the time it must have carried with it every appearance of
probability, for the Queen, by admitting her guilt, also cast a slur
upon the legitimacy of her child. Now that it was too late, she
regretted the precipitation with which she had signed the paper. Her
enemies' eagerness to induce her to sign showed her clearly how she
had erred: she ought to have demanded time for reflection, or insisted
on adequate guarantees. She had signed away her crown, her honour, her
children, perhaps her life, and it might be all in vain.
The commissioners, who had succeeded almost beyond their hopes,
hastened back to Copenhagen to lay before the Queen-Dowager the
crowning evidence of Matilda's guilt. Juliana Maria was overjoyed: her
enemy was delivered into her hands; nay, she had delivered herself. In
this paper she found a full justification for all that she had done,
and a complete answer to the remonstrances of the English envoy and his
master. Keith, it is said, at first refused to believe the evidence of
his eyes, and then fell back on the argument that the Queen's signature
had been wrung from her either by force or fraud. He realised that
she had committed an irretrievable mistake. For the Queen-consort to
be unfaithful to her husband's bed was, by the law of Denmark, high
treason, and as such punishable with death. Questions of high treason
were, as a rule, solved by the King alone; the _Lex Regia_ expressly
prohibited the judges from trying such matters. But in this case the
King could not be trusted; he probably had no wish to divorce his
Queen, whether she were guilty or not guilty--much less to punish her
with imprisonment or death; he regarded offences against morality with
a lenient eye, and he had positively forced his unhappy consort into
temptation. So he was not consulted.
The Queen-Dowager took counsel with her legal advisers, with the result
that an old statute was raked up (Section 3 of the Code of Christian
V.), and a special commission, consisting of no less than thirty-five
members, who formed a supreme court, was appointed to try the case of
the King against the Queen. The court was composed of representatives
of every class: five clergy, the Bishop of Zealand and four clerical
assessors; four members of the Council of State, Counts Thott, Osten,
Councillor Schack-Rathlou and Admiral Rommeling; the members of the
commission who had examined Struensee; the judges of the Supreme Court
not members of the commission; two officers of the army; two of the
navy; several councillors of state; and one representative of the civic
authority. The court was thus composed of some of the most eminent men
in Denmark, and representative of both the church and state. Some of
them were creatures of the Queen-Dowager, and pledged to carry out her
wishes, many were upright and honourable men, but all were hostile to
the Struensee administration, which had been carried on in the name of
the Queen.
The English envoy offered no protest to this trial, though he must
have known that the judges were men prejudiced against the Queen,
and the sentence of divorce was already virtually determined upon.
But the blame for this inaction does not rest with Keith; he had
received no instructions from the King of England, to whom Matilda's
confession had been communicated with the least possible delay by the
Danish Government. George III. held that, primarily, the question was
one between husband and wife, and if his sister had forgotten her
duty as a wife and a queen, her husband was justified in putting her
away. Hence he offered no objection to the divorce proceedings which
followed, though they were conducted from first to last with the utmost
unfairness. True, he entered a plea for a fair trial, but he must have
known that, surrounded as his sister was with enemies, a fair trial
was impossible. If George III. had entered a vigorous protest at this
juncture, the trial would never have been allowed to go forward, and
a painful scandal, discreditable alike to the royal houses of England
and Denmark, might have been hushed up. Moreover, decided action at the
outset would have rendered unnecessary the crisis which brought England
and Denmark to the verge of war a few months later.