THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN.
1775.
We last saw the Queen with her hand on the door, as she bade farewell
to Wraxall and wished him God-speed on his journey. "She never perhaps
looked more engaging," he wrote later, "than on that night, in that
attitude and in that dress. Her countenance, animated with the prospect
of her approaching emancipation from Zell--which was in fact only a
refuge and an exile--and anticipating her restoration to the throne
of Denmark, was lighted up with smiles, and she appeared to be in the
highest health. Yet, if futurity could have been unveiled to us, we
should have seen behind the door, which she held in her hands, the
'fell anatomy,'[104] as 'Constance' calls him, already raising his dart
to strike her. Within seven weeks of that day she yielded her last
breath."[105]
[104]
Then with a passion would I shake the world
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy.
_King John_, Act III., Scene iv.
[105] Wraxall's _Posthumous Memoirs_, vol. i.
Queen Matilda's end was tragically sudden--so sudden as to call forth
the wildest rumours of foul play. A report was current in Celle that
the Queen was poisoned at the instigation of her deadly enemy, Juliana
Maria, acting through the agency of a negro, named Mephisto, who was
cook at the castle. It was said that he first gave a poisoned cup of
chocolate to a young page in the Queen's household, and seeing that it
worked with fatal effect, he poisoned the Queen in the same way. The
death of the Queen at the moment when their plans were nearing fruition
doubtless seemed suspicious to her Danish adherents who spread this
report, which was firmly believed by the common people in Copenhagen
and Celle. But the evidence of her physicians,[106] who sent a detailed
account of the Queen's last illness and death to George III., leaves no
doubt that she died from natural causes.
[106] Leyser, a physician of Celle, and Zimmermann, a physician of
Hanover.
Like all the children of Frederick Prince of Wales (except Augusta
of Brunswick and possibly George III.), Matilda was not of a strong
constitution. The climate of Denmark never agreed with her, and the
awful experiences she had gone through at Copenhagen shattered her
health. She was naturally of a plethoric habit of body, and though in
Denmark she had kept this tendency in check by continual exercise, such
as riding, walking and dancing--harmless amusements which her enemies
urged as offences against her--in her five months' imprisonment at
Kronborg she could take no exercise at all, and afterwards at Celle
she voluntarily gave up riding and dancing lest she should call forth
unkindly comment. The result was she became exceedingly stout--in
so young a woman much too stout for health. She had always lived an
active life, and the forced inaction to which she was condemned at
Celle was very bad for her, and the dulness and monotony weighed on her
spirits. Moreover, during the last few months, she had been leading a
life of suppressed excitement; the thought of her possible restoration
continually agitated her, and one day she would be greatly elated, and
another day correspondingly depressed. All this told upon her strength,
and rendered her the more susceptible to illness, should any come her
way.
In the spring of 1775 (in fact, while Wraxall was there) an epidemic
called indifferently "military fever" or "the purples" had spread to a
great extent in Celle, and there were many deaths. Queen Matilda was
accustomed to walk freely about the town, and she therefore may have
exposed herself to infection; but she does not seem to have taken any
harm from the epidemic until after the death of her page. This boy, who
died on May 5, was a great favourite with the Queen; she felt his death
very much, and insisted on going to see him when he was lying dead in
one of the rooms of the castle. Her ladies tried to dissuade her, but
she would go, and either then, or at some other time, she caught the
infection. On coming back from the page's room she learned that the
little girl, Sophie von Benningsen, whom she had adopted, was also down
with the fever. The Queen, very much depressed, went for a walk in the
French garden, and when she came back she was so tired that she could
scarcely mount the steps of the castle. She dined as usual with her
court, but ate scarcely anything, and after dinner felt too unwell to
play cards and withdrew to her chamber.
The next morning, after a bad night, she complained of a sore throat
and chill. Her physician, Dr. Leyser, was called in, and compelled
her to remain in bed. Towards evening her condition showed a slight
improvement, but the next day symptoms so alarming appeared that Leyser
sent for Dr. Zimmermann, a celebrated physician at Hanover. The Queen
seemed to have a presentiment of death, for she said to Leyser: "You
have twice helped me through a dangerous illness since October, but
this time I shall die." The doctors affected a cheerfulness which they
were far from feeling, for the Queen's condition grew worse every hour,
and the fever became very violent. Prayers were offered for her in the
churches; she was deeply touched when her women told her that the whole
of Celle was praying for her, and even the Jewish community had offered
up supplications on her behalf.
The dying Queen was eager to avail herself of the consolations of
religion; Pastor Lehzen, her chaplain, prayed by her bedside, and read,
at her request, her favourite hymns and some verses from the Bible.
She went towards death without fear, indeed she seemed to welcome it.
Her sufferings were agonising, but through them all she manifested a
marvellous patience and fortitude. The Queen kept her senses to the
last, and almost with her dying breath expressed her forgiveness of
her enemies. Her last thought was of others; she inquired after the
little girl, Sophie, and when the doctor told her that the child was
out of danger, she whispered: "Then I die soothed," and fell quietly
asleep. In this sleep she died. The good pastor, who was praying by the
Queen's bedside when her spirit fled, thus described the end: "I never
witnessed so easy a passing; death seemed to lose all its terrors. The
words of Holy Writ: 'O Death, where is thy sting?' were literally true
in her case. She fell asleep like a tired wayfarer."
Queen Matilda died on the evening of May 11, 1775, at ten minutes past
eleven, at the age of twenty-three years and nine months.
* * * * *
This "Queen of Tears" was married at fifteen; she died at twenty-three.
What unhappiness, what tragedy, what pathos were crowded in those brief
eight years! If she erred, she suffered greatly--imprisonment, exile,
the loss of her children, her crown, her honour--surely it was enough!
To those who are inclined to judge her harshly, the thought of her
youth and her sorrows will surely stay their judgment. We would fain
leave them to plead for her, without entering again on the oft-debated
question of how far she erred in her great love for the man who showed
himself altogether unworthy of the sacrifices she made for him. But her
indiscreet champions have unwittingly done her memory more harm than
good by claiming for her, throughout her troubled life at the Danish
court, what she never claimed--absolute innocence in thought, word and
deed. They rest their contention on evidence which we would gladly
accept if we could. But alas! it does not bear the test of critical
investigation.
Nearly a hundred years after Matilda's death (in 1864) one of her many
apologists, Sir Lascelles Wraxall, grandson of the Nathaniel Wraxall
who had acted as agent in the plot for her restoration, published a
letter which he said had been given him by her daughter the Duchess of
Augustenburg, who had been allowed to take a copy of it by the King
of Hanover from the original document preserved in the Hanoverian
archives.[107] This letter purported to be written by the Queen when
she was on her deathbed to her brother George III., and proclaimed her
innocence. The Duchess of Augustenburg was the Princess Louise Augusta
of Denmark, the infant daughter taken from Matilda's arms at Kronborg,
the Princess whose birth occasioned so much scandalous rumour. She,
therefore (though formally recognised as the daughter of Christian
VII.), was interested in the question of her mother's innocence, and,
coming from such hands, the genuineness of the letter at first sight
would seem to be, as Wraxall says, "incontestable". The letter ran
as follows:--
[107] Wraxall was apparently unaware that this letter had already
appeared in print--in the _Times_ of January 27, 1852.
"SIRE,
"In the most solemn hour of my life I turn to you, my royal brother,
to express my heart's thanks for all the kindness you have shown me
during my whole life, and especially in my misfortune.
"I die willingly, for nothing holds me back--neither my youth, nor
the pleasures which might await me, near or remote. How could life
possess any charms for me, who am separated from all those I love--my
husband, my children and my relatives? I, who am myself a queen and
of royal blood, have lived the most wretched life, and stand before
the world an example that neither crown nor sceptre affords any
protection against misfortune!
"But I die innocent--I write this with a trembling hand and feeling
death imminent--I am innocent. Oh, that it might please the Almighty
to convince the world after my death that I did not deserve any
of the frightful accusations by which the calumnies of my enemies
stained my character, wounded my heart, traduced my honour and
trampled on my dignity.
"Sire, believe your dying sister, a queen and even more, a Christian,
who would gaze with terror on the other world if her last confession
were a falsehood. I die willingly, for the unhappy bless the tomb.
But more than all else, and even than death, it pains me that not
one of all those I loved in life is standing by my dying bed to grant
me a last consolation by a pressure of the hand, or a glance of
compassion, to close my eyes in death.
"Still, I am not alone. God, the sole witness of my innocence, is
looking down on my bed of agony; my guardian angel is hovering over
me, and will soon guide me to the spot where I shall be able to pray
for my friends, and also for my persecutors.
"Farewell, then, my royal brother! May Heaven bless you--my
husband--my children--England--Denmark--and the whole world. Permit
my corpse to rest in the vault of my parents, and now the last,
unspeakably sad farewell from your unfortunate
"CAROLINE MATILDA."
[Illustration: THE CHURCH AT CELLE, WHERE QUEEN MATILDA IS BURIED.
_From a Photograph._]
If this document were genuine, it would go far to prove the innocence
of the Queen, for it must be remembered that the evidence against her,
even at its worst, was presumptive only, and it is unlikely, from all
we know of the genuine piety of her later years that she would have
faced death with a lie on her lips. But after patient inquiry nothing
can be found to prove its genuineness. The most convincing proof, of
course, would be the existence of the original letter in the Queen's
well-known handwriting; but no such letter exists in the Hanoverian
archives; nor does it exist among the Guelph domestic papers, which
the King of Hanover took with him into exile after the war of 1866.
While there was still a king in Hanover the late Mr. Heneage Jesse[108]
applied to the Hanoverian officials for information concerning this
letter, and received the following reply from Baron von Malortie,
minister and chamberlain to the King: "In the royal Hanoverian archives
there is not the letter alluded to of the late Queen Caroline Matilda
of Denmark. Solely the royal museum contains a _printed_ copy of a
letter pretending to be written by the said late Queen on her deathbed
to her royal brother, George III. of Great Britain, and it is presumed
that the Duchess of Augustenburg was permitted by the late King, Ernest
Augustus' Majesty, to take a copy of this printed copy, now in the
family museum." He then went on to say that all the officials of the
Hanoverian archives were strongly of the opinion that the Queen "never
did write, nor could write, on her deathbed such a letter, and that
the pretended letter of her Majesty is nothing but the work of one of
her friends in England, written after her death and then translated.
The history of her Majesty's last illness and of her death is here
well known, and excludes almost the possibility of her writing and
forwarding such a letter to her royal brother."[109]
[108] Author of the _Memoirs of the Life and Reign of King George III_.
[109] Jesse's _Memoirs and Life of George III_., 1867, vol. ii.
There still remains the theory put forward by some--that the Queen, in
writing this letter, protested her innocence only in general terms,
and she may have been referring to the charges made against her of
plotting with Struensee to poison or depose her husband, of which she
certainly was innocent. But this theory is untenable from another plea
put forward by the Queen's defenders, and which perhaps deserves more
respectful consideration than the letter. Some years after the Queen's
death Falckenskjold published his _Memoirs_, and in them we find the
following statement:--
"In 1780 I had an opportunity at Hanover of forming the acquaintance of
M. Roques, pastor of the French Protestant Church at Celle. One day I
spoke to him about Queen Caroline Matilda.
"'I was summoned almost daily by that Princess,' he said to me, 'either
to read or converse with her, and most frequently to obtain information
relative to the poor of my parish. I visited her more constantly during
the last days of her life, and I was with her a little before she drew
her last breath. Although very weak, she retained her presence of
mind. After I had recited the prayers for the dying, she said to me in
a voice that seemed to become more animated: "_Monsieur Roques, I am
about to appear before God. I protest that I am innocent of the crimes
imputed against me, and that I was never faithless to my husband_.'"
"M. Roques added that the Queen had never before spoken to him, even
indirectly, of the accusations brought against her.
"I wrote down on the same day (March 7, 1780) what M. Roques said
to me, as coming from a man distinguished by his integrity of
character."[110]
[110] _Mémoires de M. Falckenskjold_, Officier Général dans le service
de S. M. Danoise.
If Falckenskjold is to be believed, this, it must be admitted, is
remarkable evidence; but in his _Memoirs_ he can be more than once
convicted of misstatements, and, at best, this one rests on second-hand
information obtained five years after the Queen's death. It was Pastor
Lehzen, and not Pastor Roques, who attended the Queen in her illness,
and he published afterwards an edifying account of her last moments,
which contained no statement of this nature.[111] As Lehzen was the
Queen's chaplain throughout her residence at Celle, and rector of
the principal church there, it seems more likely that she would have
confided in him than in the minister of the French Protestant chapel,
whom she only saw from time to time in connection with little deeds of
beneficence to the poor among his congregation.
[111] Lehzen's _Die Letzten Stunden der Königin von Danemark_.
It is not necessary to invest Matilda with the halo of a saint to feel
sympathy for her sorrows and pity for her fate. She loved greatly and
suffered greatly for her love. Let it rest there.
* * * * *
"Our good Queen is no more," announced Pastor Lehzen, as he came from
her deathbed to the long gallery, where the whole of the late Queen's
household, some fifty in number, were assembled. There was not one of
them who did not hear the words without a sense of personal loss, for
there was not one, even the meanest, to whom the Queen had not endeared
herself by some kind word or deed. The castle was filled with weeping
and lamentation. The ill news was quickly communicated to the town, and
every house became a house of mourning, for during her residence at
Celle Matilda had endeared herself alike to the highest and the lowest,
and was spoken of by all as their "_lieben und guten Königin_" (their
beloved and good Queen).
Owing to the danger of infection the Queen's funeral took place
within fifty hours of her death. It was found impossible to delay her
obsequies until the King's instructions could be received from England,
and therefore at midnight on May 13 the Queen was interred in the
burial vault of the Dukes of Celle in the old church.
The grand marshal of the court of Hanover, Baron von Lichtenstein, took
charge of the funeral arrangements. The Queen's coffin was carried on
a hearse, drawn by six horses, from the castle to the church under
an escort of soldiers, and the route was guarded by soldiers bearing
torches, and lined with rows of weeping people, all clad in black. The
Queen's household, headed by Baron Seckendorf, her chamberlain, and
the Baroness Dowager d'Ompteda, her chief lady-in-waiting, followed on
foot. The church was crowded with the chief people of Celle, including
Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and Madame de Plessen. The simple
service was conducted by Pastor Lehzen, and the coffin was lowered to
the ducal vaults.[112]
[112] Though the funeral was quite private, the expenses were very
heavy, amounting to some £3,000. They were defrayed, by order of George
III., by the privy purse.
The Sunday after the Queen's death mourning services were held in the
churches of Celle. At the town church, where she was buried, Pastor
Lehzen concluded his sermon with the following words:--
"She endeavoured to win the love of every one, even of the humblest,
and the many tears shed for her prove that she succeeded in her
endeavour. Those who were nearest her person testify how she strove in
a higher strength to exercise the most difficult of Christian virtues
[forgiveness of her enemies], and that not from a lofty, worldly pride,
but from reasons set forth for us by the Pattern of all virtues. The
last steps of her life were taken with submissive surrender to the will
of God, with trust and hope. O God! we thank Thee for Thy grace, and
for its blessed working; we honour, we extol, we praise the same, and
offer to Thee our most hearty thanks for all the goodness wrought in
this immortalised soul. May she now enjoy the rest, the reward, the
bliss of the perfected just! May a blessing rest on her royal children,
such as this loving mother sought for them so often from Thee, O God,
with many tears! Lighten the sorrow which the news of this unexpected
and grievous event will cause to the hearts of our gracious King and
Queen [George III. and Charlotte], and for the blessing of the world,
and of this country in particular, bring their Majesties to their full
term of happy years, and permit them to see their royal house flourish
and prosper. Look upon those who are nearest to the deceased Princess,
and mourn a Queen who was always full of graciousness and gentleness.
Console them in Thy mercy and loving providence, and teach them that
Thy counsel is very wonderful, and wise and tender. And thou, Celle,
overcome by the death which leaves thee forlorn, look up through
thy tears to God! Honour Him with childlike trust, and pray Him to
compensate your loss by manifestations of His mercy in other ways, and
by granting a long and happy life to our gracious King."
It was thought that the ducal vault of Celle would prove only a
temporary resting-place for the Queen, and, in accordance with her
expressed wish, her remains would be removed to England to rest in
Westminster Abbey beside those of her father and mother. But George
III. did not see his way to grant this last request, and all that is
mortal of Matilda remains at Celle to this day. On one side of her
George William, the last Duke of Celle, and his consort, Eléonore
d'Olbreuse, sleep their last sleep; on the other is the plain leaden
coffin of their unfortunate daughter, Sophie Dorothea, whose troubled
life in many ways closely resembled that of her great-granddaughter
Matilda.
I visited this vault a few years ago. Queen Matilda's coffin is easily
found, as it is the only wooden (mahogany) one there. It is of
extraordinary breadth--almost as broad as long--and at the head is the
following inscription in Latin: _Here are deposited the mortal remains
of Caroline Matilda, Princess of Great Britain and Brunswick-Lüneburg,
Queen of Denmark and Norway. Born July 22, 1751, died May 11, 1775._
A few faded wreaths were lying near the coffin; many of these
were deposited many years after her death by pilgrims to her last
resting-place; but I was assured that some of them had been there since
the funeral. The vault is now closed.
When the news of Queen Matilda's death reached England general mourning
for three weeks was commanded for the King's sister, and court mourning
for six weeks. Among the few English friends who knew her profound
sorrow was felt at the early death of this unfortunate daughter of
England. On May 24 a deputation of the House of Lords and a deputation
of the House of Commons waited on the King at St. James's, and
presented addresses of condolence on the Queen of Denmark's death. To
each George III. replied: "The King returns his thanks to the House for
the concern they have expressed for the great loss which has happened
to his family by the death of his sister, the Queen of Denmark."
The few thousand pounds the Queen left behind her, and her personal
effects, George III. committed to the charge of the regency of Hanover,
with orders to guard the property for her children until they came of
age, and Baron Seckendorf was entrusted with the administration of the
Queen's estate.
The news of the Queen's death travelled to Copenhagen as quickly as to
London, and completed the revulsion of feeling in her favour. She was
henceforth regarded by the people as a saint and martyr, who had been
sacrificed to the intrigues of the Queen-Dowager, and the unpopularity
of Juliana Maria and her Government was greatly increased. The
Queen-Dowager could not conceal her satisfaction at Matilda's death.
The English envoy relates how the Danish court received the news.
Writing on May 20 he says:--
"An estafette from Madame Schimmelmann brought the melancholy news from
Hamburg to Count Bernstorff very early yesterday morning, and I had
the grief to receive the confirmation of it soon after by the post....
Orders were given yesterday, as I am positively assured, to put the
Prince and Princess Royal into the deepest mourning worn here for a
mother, and I am likewise further assured that Count Bernstorff was
the adviser of that measure. But as consistency is not to be expected
here, he could not prevent the Royal Family's appearing at the play on
Wednesday and yesterday evenings, and what was worse, their assisting
on Thursday night at a ball in dominoes at the theatre, where they
made the King of Denmark dance, though they had ordered young Schack
to acquaint him on Wednesday with the circumstance he was in, with
which he was most [deeply] affected. And yesterday at Court (where I
was not) his countenance and manner were such as startled the Foreign
Ministers who approached him. The Prince Royal did not see company.
And to-day they all went to dine out of town, the King assisting at
the launching of two frigates, which resolution was taken suddenly at
twelve o'clock. They say they will wait till I, or M. Reiche, notify
the Queen of Denmark's death, in his Majesty's name."[113]
[113] De Laval's despatch, Copenhagen, May 20, 1775.
In accordance with this resolution no notice was taken of the event
by the Danish court, nor was any mourning donned, until George III.
sent a letter to the King notifying the death of Queen Matilda.
This notification was formally delivered by the English envoy at
the Christiansborg Palace the day when a court ball was appointed.
The Queen-Dowager so far forgot her discretion, or was so blind to
decency, that she did not order the ball to be postponed, and the
court danced merrily the evening of the day that the Queen's death was
notified at Copenhagen. But the next morning the Danish court went into
mourning--not as for the Queen of Denmark (for the Queen was considered
politically to have died three years before), but as for a foreign
princess who was connected with the Danish royal house--as a princess
of Great Britain Caroline Matilda was first cousin to Christian VII.
This court mourning lasted for four weeks--the usual time--and the
only concession seems to have been that the late Queen's children,
the Crown Prince Frederick and his sister, Princess Louise Augusta,
remained in mourning for a longer period.
It is said that George III., to whom the news of the court ball was
communicated, deeply resented the affront offered by the Danish court
not only to his dead sister but to him. No trace of this appears in
the official despatches. On the contrary, we find, soon after this
wanton insult to the Queen's memory, a despatch from England, saying
that "the King hoped the Queen's death would make no difference to the
good relations existing between the two courts".[114] George III. was
not a man to allow personal considerations to stand in the way of what
he considered to be public good, and he had recently obtained a pledge
from the Danish Government to the effect that they would not offer any
help, direct or indirect, to the American colonists, recently goaded
into revolt. A sister's memory was nothing to the King in comparison
with the prosecution of an unrighteous war which he believed to be
righteous.
[114] Lord Suffolk's despatch to De Laval, St. James's, June 9, 1775.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE MEMORIAL ERECTED TO QUEEN MATILDA IN THE FRENCH
GARDEN OF CELLE.]
It was only in little Celle, among the people who had known and loved
her the last years of her brief life, that the memory of Matilda was
treasured and held sacred. Soon after the funeral a public meeting
was held at Celle and attended by the principal burgesses of the town
and the leading noblemen of the principality of Lüneburg, and after
resolutions had been passed lamenting her death, it was resolved to
petition George III. for permission to erect a monument to her memory.
In this petition it was stated: "Our only object is to raise a lasting
proof of the general affection and respect with which we regarded the
great and noble qualities of her Majesty Queen Matilda, and, by a
permanent memorial of the grief for her death felt by all true subjects
of your Majesty, to give an opportunity to our remotest descendants to
cherish with silent respect the memory of the best and most amiable of
queens." The petition was graciously received by George III., and he
willingly granted his permission.
A monument of grey marble was sculptured by Professor Oeser of Leipzig,
and erected in the French garden of Celle--the garden of which she had
been so fond--and stands to this day. A medallion of the Queen, as she
appeared in the last year of her life, is carved upon an urn, which is
upborne by allegorical figures of truth, maternal love, charity and
mercy--the virtues by which the Queen was pre-eminently known; and an
inscription runs round the pedestal setting forth her name and titles
and the dates of her birth and death. This handsome monument stands
out in bold relief against a background of sycamores, and looks across
the trim gardens to an avenue of ancient limes--the very trees, maybe,
under which Queen Matilda paced with Wraxall a few months before her
death.
I saw it first on a June evening five years ago. At the base of the
monument blue forget-me-nots were planted, and red and white roses
clambered up the low railing around it--a touching testimony to the
fact that the Queen is not yet forgotten in Celle, and the memory of
her good deeds is still living in the hearts of the people.