CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XI.THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN.1769.On January 14 Christian VII. returned to Copenhagen after an absence of nearly eight months. Queen Matilda drove out to meet him, and husband and wife exchanged affectionate greetings. Together they entered Copenhagen, amid the firing of cannon, ringing of bells, and the joyful acclamations of the people. The English envoy gives the following account of the entry: “The Queen went as far as Röskilde to meet his Majesty, which strong mark of her affection and regard could not fail of affording him the highest satisfaction. Between six and seven o’clock their Majesties made a public entry into this capital, under a triple discharge of the cannon on the ramparts. The whole garrison, as well as the burghers, were under arms, and permission having been given a few days before to illuminate the houses, the inhabitants vied with each other in doing this, as well as the short notice would admit of, and in demonstrating their joy in every other manner they could. The foreign ministers, nobility, etc., attended at the palace of Christiansborg in order to pay their compliments upon thishappy occasion, which the King was pleased to receive, after he had made a short visit to the Dowager-Queens.”[108][108]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, January 17, 1769.Thus did Denmark welcome home her prodigal son.Queen Matilda had spent the greater part of the time since the King left her at Frederiksborg,[109]some twenty miles from Copenhagen. Frederiksborg was the most magnificent of the country palaces of the Danish King, and has well been called the “Versailles of Denmark”. It stands to this day, and the site is one of the most picturesque in Europe; the buildings cover three islands in a lake, connected by bridges, the palace proper occupying the third island. The exterior is rich in florid ornamentation, carried out in a warm sandstone, which admirably harmonises with the time-stained brick of which the palace is built. The windows look across the green water of the lake—a vivid green nowhere seen as at Frederiksborg—to the gardens,laid out in the old French style, with straight walks and terraces, and clipped hedges of beech and hornbeam. The most magnificent room in Frederiksborg is the knights’ hall, and below it is the church, where the Kings of the Oldenburg line were once wont to be crowned. This church is the most ornate of any in Denmark; everywhere is colour—in the traceried windows and frescoed walls, in the inlaid ivory work of the stalls, the pulpit of ebony and embossed silver, and the purple-vested altar with its golden crucifix. In short, Frederiksborg is a magnificent specimen of the Danish Renaissance, and brings vividly before us the life, the colour and richness which characterised the court life of mediæval Denmark.[109]Frederiksborg was built early in the seventeenth century by Christian IV. on the site of an old building, and was used as a residence by the Kings of Denmark until 1859 (Frederick VII. usually resided there), when a large part of the building was destroyed by fire. Thanks to the munificence of the King, the Government and the public, and especially to Herr J. C. Jacobsen, a wealthy brewer, who contributed a large sum, the palace has been admirably restored, and the interior is now fitted up as a National Historical Museum. The contents, which include many works of art, illustrating events in Danish history, are not so interesting as one might suppose, but the visitor to Frederiksborg is well repaid by the beauty of its exterior, the magnificence of its chapel, where the work of restoration has been admirably done, and by the old-world charm of its gardens.At Frederiksborg Matilda spent the summer and autumn months of 1768 alone. She occupied herself for the most part in works of charity, and strove to forget her own sorrows in relieving those of others. There was no philanthropic institution in the kingdom which she did not support, and in her immediate neighbourhood her name became a household word for many acts of kindness and benevolence. The young Queen went in and out among the poor of the adjacent village of Hilleröd, visiting the sick and helping the needy. The fame of her good deeds spread abroad, and the poor throughout Denmark, even thousands to whom she was only a name, came to look upon her as a protectress and a friend. They believed that the golden days of good Queen Louise had comeback again. “The English,” they said, “send us not Queens, but angels.”For the rest, Matilda lived in great retirement. Occasionally she received visits of ceremony from the Dowager-Queens, from Sophia Magdalena, who lived at Hirschholm, or from Juliana Maria, who lived at Fredensborg. The masked hostility of Juliana Maria continued unabated, but the extreme circumspection of the young Queen’s conduct gave no occasion for cavil. Except the Dowager-Queens she saw no one beyond her immediate household, and though most of these had been forced upon her against her will, yet after the first restraint wore off she showed to them no resentment. Her kindness and consideration won all their hearts, with one exception—that of Fräulein von Eyben, who, though pretending to be devoted to her mistress, was secretly working against her. Matilda took no part in state affairs during the King’s absence, not even in ceremonial duties. Taking their cue from the King, the Ministers who had been left to conduct the business of the state while he was abroad, treated the Queen as a person of little importance, and even neglected to pay her the ordinary visits of ceremony.Since Madame de Plessen had left the court Matilda had no one to whom she could talk freely, nor, except her sister Augusta of Brunswick, had she any one to whom she could write without restraint. Augusta had her own troubles too, but she kept a warm corner in her heart for her youngestsister, and throughout life remained her truest and staunchest friend. But, at best, letter-writing is a poor substitute for personal converse, and at this time Matilda was much alone.The young Queen must have often felt friendless and depressed as she paced the terraces of Frederiksborg or looked down from the windows of her apartments into the green water which lapped the castle walls, or gazed out on the clear northern night, and watched the moonlight play on the towers and pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes of a morning she would wander forth to the beech woods beyond the gardens. These beeches, mighty with age, are now, as they were then, one of the features of Frederiksborg. They are always beautiful—beautiful in spring, with their satin-smooth trunks, and branches still leafless, but tipped with brown spikes flushed with purple, and already bursting to disclose the woolly buds of silver within; beautiful in summer, when the pale green leaves form a shimmering canopy overhead; beautiful when the golden hues of autumn mingle with the russet-brown of the cones; beautiful even in winter, when the leafless branches stretch like lacework against the leaden hues of the sky, and the shrill winds from the Baltic whistle through them, and the ground beneath is carpeted with husks of their lavish fruit. Matilda grew to love these beech woods greatly, and even to-day they are associated with her name.The Queen had one consolation in her loneliness which was not hers when she came to Denmark—she had her son, and found much happiness in him, for the maternal instinct was always strong in her. She could no longer feel a stranger and an alien in a country over which her son would, under Providence, one day rule; she was not merely the King’s wife, but the mother of the future King of Denmark. The Crown Prince was at first sickly and ailing, but when the Queen went to Frederiksborg, in defiance of court etiquette, she took the infant under her immediate care, and kept him with her as much as possible. During the summer, under his mother’s watchful love, the little Prince, whose life was so precious to the Danish nation, grew much stronger. The English envoy mentions an audience he had with the Queen at Frederiksborg soon after her arrival there, and adds: “The Prince Royal, whom her Majesty was pleased to allow me to see, is greatly grown since his removal to the country. The resemblance between his Highness and the King’s (our royal Master’s) family is striking to all those who have had the honour of seeing him.”[110][110]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 9, 1768.The Palace of Fredericksborg, from the garden terrace.THE PALACE OF FREDERIKSBORG, FROM THE GARDEN TERRACE.From an Engraving, temp. 1768.The only ceremonial the Queen attended, in the absence of Christian VII., was the inauguration of an equestrian statue of the late King Frederick V. at Copenhagen in the late autumn. Shortly after this function Matilda removed from the country to the Christiansborg Palace, and there awaited the King, who did not return until two months later than he at first intended. Matilda had now determined to make the best of her husband, notwithstanding the reports which had reached her of his dissipation in London and Paris. He was the father of her child, and her interests were bound up with his. The future happiness of her son, and the prosperity of his kingdom, largely depended on Christian VII. It was clearly the Queen’s duty to put aside her own grievances, however great they might be, and make an effort to guide the King in the right way. Therefore she welcomed him home as affectionately as if no cloud had dimmed their parting eight months before.The King was surprised and delighted at the change which had taken place in his Queen’s appearance and demeanour. The restful and healthy life she had led at Frederiksborg had added greatly to her charm, her figure had developed and her spirits improved. Christian had left Matilda an unformed girl, he came back to find her a beautiful and self-possessed woman. His wayward fancy was pleased, and soon themotran round the palace that the King had actually fallen in love with his own wife. He might well have done so, for she was by far the most beautiful woman at his court. There is a portrait of Queen Matilda in the Rosenborg at Copenhagen, painted about this time, when she was in her eighteenth year. It represents her in the full bloom of her beauty. The face is a pure oval, the brow lofty and serene, the nose delicately chiselled, the lips full and red, the large eyes of a peculiar shade of light blue, the expression a combination of youthful dignity and sweet archness.Her hair is dressed high, and powdered after the fashion of the time; she wears a blue robe, with a narrow edge of ermine to betoken her queenly rank, and round her finely-moulded throat is a close necklace of pearls. Even if we make allowance for courtly flattery, the picture remains that of a woman of rare loveliness and indescribable charm.Though her heart was untouched, Matilda was no doubt flattered by her husband’s attentions, and she honestly tried to meet his advances half way. Acting on the advice of her mother, her sister, and of all who wished her well, she strove to please him, and in her desire to hold his fickle favour, she even overlooked the fact that the hated Holck was still in the ascendant. Perhaps she thought, by fair words and guile, to undermine his ascendency. Her efforts, if they did not add to her own happiness, at least conduced to the outward harmony of the royal pair, and were coincident with a marked improvement in Christian’s mode of life. For the first few months after the King’s return this improvement was maintained; the nocturnal expeditions, which had so scandalised the citizens of Copenhagen, were now entirely given up; there were no masquerades, and the court became quite decorous. Formerly the dinner used to be rushed through for the King to hurry off to his apartments and occupy himself in unworthy pursuits. Now the King and Queen dined in public nearly every day, and with much ceremony. The leading ministers, the foreign envoys, and all who distinguished themselves in theservice of church or state, were in turn honoured with invitations, and the conversation at the dinner table became almost intellectual. Yet the court did not grow dull; cotillons and minuets were often danced in the palace, and the opening of the theatre for the season afforded much interest and amusement. The centre of all this pleasant society was the young Queen, the praises of whose beauty and amiability were on every tongue. Moreover, always accompanied by the Queen, the King reviewed the fleet, inspected the docks and fortifications of Copenhagen, and visited learned and scientific institutions with the object of comparing them with those he had seen abroad. The King also again endeavoured to interest himself in affairs of state, attended councils and criticised many details of administration. This remarkable change delighted alike the King’s ministers and his subjects, and they ascribed the improvement quite as much to the influence of the Queen as to the result of his travels. The Queen, it seemed at this time, was likely to become a power in the state. The English envoy writes home:—“Your Lordship (the Earl of Rochford) has been already acquainted with the change that appeared in his Danish Majesty. Those amusements in which he used to take delight no longer afford him any. The society of the Queen seems alone to constitute his happiness. Her Majesty will now, no doubt, obtain that just and proper degree of influence, which her numberless amiable qualitiesentitle her to, and which she would have much earlier enjoyed, had not the happy effect of it been too much apprehended by some who did not expect to find their account in it.”[111][111]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, February 18, 1769.Impressed, no doubt, by the warmth of his welcome in England, the King of Denmark was now strongly English in his sentiments. He talked much about his English mother, and delighted to honour anything which had to do, even remotely, with England. For instance, he sent the order of the Elephant to Prince George of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the youngest brother of Queen Charlotte; he despatched a pressing invitation to the Duke of Gloucester to visit Copenhagen, and he resolved to celebrate Queen Matilda’s birthday with all possible ceremony, not only as a mark of her new-found favour in his eyes, but also because he wished to pay a compliment, through her, to the royal house of England.The Duke of Gloucester duly arrived at Copenhagen to take part in the celebration of his sister’s birthday. He was the first of her family whom Matilda had seen since she left home, and she received him with demonstrations of joy. Gunning writes: “Their mutual joy and satisfaction on this occasion was greater than can be expressed”.[112][112]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 11, 1769.William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, was in his twenty-sixth year at the time of his visit to Copenhagen. He was the least intelligent of thenumerous family of Frederick Prince of Wales, but he had some sterling qualities, which made him resemble, more than the other sons, his eldest brother George III. If he lacked the wit and brilliancy of the Duke of York, he did not possess the vices and follies of the Duke of Cumberland. As a boy he was dull and heavy-witted, and the Princess-Dowager cared for him the least of all her children. According to Walpole she used to treat him with severity, and then accuse him of sulking. “No,” said the Duke, on one occasion, “I am not sulking, I am only thinking.” “And pray, of what are you thinking?” asked his mother with scorn. “I am thinking that if ever I have a son, I will not make him as unhappy as you make me.” The Duke of Gloucester grew up a silent, reserved man, and shortly after attaining his majority, he became enamoured of Maria, Dowager-Countess Waldegrave. His passion was the more violent, because of the way his affections had been stunted in his youth, and the obstacles to the attainment of his desire only served to quicken his ardour. The obstacles were considerable, for the Dowager-Countess Waldegrave, in consequence of a stain upon her birth,[113]was hardly a meet woman for the King’sbrother to take to wife, and, on the other hand, as she told him, she was too considerable a person to become his mistress. She was a young, rich and beautiful widow of spotless reputation and boundless ambition. Many suitors were at her feet, among them the Duke of Portland, the best match in England, yet by some strange perversity Lady Waldegrave rejected them all, and engaged in a dalliance with the unattractive Duke of Gloucester. The Duke’s wooing was long and unsatisfactory; the King and the Princess-Dowager did their utmost to break off the affair, the friends of Lady Waldegrave remonstrated, and counselled prudence. But threats, advice and warnings were all in vain, and at last the Duke of Gloucester and Lady Waldegrave were secretly married in September, 1766, in the drawing-room of Lady Waldegrave’s town house, by her domestic chaplain. The secret was jealously guarded; some declared that the young couple were married, others, less charitable, that they ought to be, but the Duke and his Duchess let them gossip as they would. The Duke was always with Lady Waldegrave in public, and his manner to her was exactly the manner a man would treat his honoured wife. The liveryworn by her servants was a compromise between that of the royal family and her own. But the marriage was not declared, and at the time the Duke of Gloucester came to Copenhagen there seemed no probability that it ever would be.[114][113]The Dowager-Countess Waldegrave was the illegitimate daughter of Sir Edward Walpole (brother of Horace Walpole), by Mary Clement, a milliner’s apprentice. She was the second and the most beautiful of three beautiful daughters, Laura, Maria and Charlotte. It was said that after the birth of her children, Edward Walpole intended to marry Mary Clement, but she died suddenly, and his honourable intentions were too late. He, however, took the children, acknowledged them, and gave them every advantage of wealth and education. When they grew up, though their birth prevented presentation at court, they were successfully launched into the best society. All three made brilliant marriages. Laura married the Rev. the Hon. Frederick Keppel, brother of the Earl of Albemarle, who subsequently became Bishop of Exeter; Charlotte, Lord Huntingtower, afterwards fifth Earl of Dysart, and Maria, Earl Waldegrave. Lord Waldegrave died a few years after the marriage, leaving his widow three daughters and a large fortune.[114]The marriage was not declared until 1772, when, in consequence of a bill having been brought into Parliament to regulate royal marriages, the Duke publicly acknowledged Lady Waldegrave as his wife. The King was highly incensed, and Queen Charlotte even more so. They refused to receive the Duchess at court, though the King had to acknowledge the marriage as legal; consequently the Duke and Duchess went to Italy, where they remained for some time. In 1776 they returned to England with their two children, Prince William Henry and the Princess Sophia. Their conduct was so irreproachable that a reconciliation took place between the Duke and the King, and the Duchess of Gloucester and her children were duly acknowledged. Prince William Henry of Gloucester eventually married his cousin, Princess Mary, daughter of George III.The Duke of Gloucester was received with every mark of respect, and his visit to Copenhagen was a continual round of festivity. There was a grand review of the troops in his honour, and a gala performance at the court theatre. One day the King and Queen and the Duke made an excursion to the ancient castle Kronborg at Elsinore, and were entertained by the commandant of the fortress. The Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, gave adéjeunerto the English Prince at Hirschholm and Count Otto Moltke gave a ball. The Queen’s birthday festivities are described by the English envoy:—“Saturday, July 22, was the anniversary of the Queen’s birthday, which not having been observed since her Majesty’s arrival in these dominions, by reason of the King of Denmark’s absence, his Majestywas determined to celebrate it now with as much magnificence as possible. The court testified its joy on this occasion by a very numerous and brilliant appearance.... In the evening followed a succession of new entertainments at the court theatre, designed and executed purposely in honour of her Majesty, and the day’s festivity was closed with a great supper at the King’s table. On Monday began the second act of this celebration. At six o’clock in the evening his Majesty and the noblemen who performed a part in the Carousal,[115]richly habited in Turkish dresses, and upon horses finely caparisoned, set out in grand procession through the city, attended by the Horse Guards and by a large band of martial music; at seven the procession returned to the great area of the palace, and as soon as the noblemen, appointed judges, had taken their seats, the exhibition began. One quadrille was led by the King, the other by Count Ahlfeld, governor of the city. The whole ceremony was very magnificent, and performed with the utmost address and good order, in the presence of her Danish Majesty, the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, his Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, the whole court, and several thousand spectators. The performance concluded soon after nine, and was succeeded by an elegant supper and ball. The court returns this evening to Frederiksberg, where there is a grandfirework to be played off; the whole gardens are to be illuminated, and, after a magnificent supper in a large building erected for that purpose, a masquerade ball is intended, to which two thousand persons are to be admitted.”[116][115]The Carousal was a musical ride which the King and the courtiers had been rehearsing in the riding school for weeks beforehand.VideGunning’s despatch, April 15, 1769.[116]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 25, 1769.The Duke of Gloucester left Copenhagen a few days after the Queen’s birthday, and returned to England. Though Christian had prepared all these festivities in his brother-in-law’s honour, he did not hesitate to exercise his wit at the expense of his guest. The Duke was silent and dull, and his lack of conversation was made a subject of ridicule by the garrulous King. One day Christian asked Holck what he thought of the Duke, and the favourite replied: “He reminds me of an English ox!” The Duke was very stout for his age, and had a broad red face and large ruminating eyes. The King laughed at Holck’s witticism, and maliciously repeated it to the Queen, who was incensed at the impertinence. If the truth must be told, the English Prince did not appear in the most favourable light at the Danish court. He stared and said little, and chiefly distinguished himself by his enormous appetite.When her brother left Copenhagen the Queen found herself once more alone. His visit had been to a great extent a disappointment to her, for he had little in common with his sister, and not much sympathy for her in her troubles. These, as time went on, grew from bad to worse. Despite all herefforts Holck continued in the ascendant, and his influence was wholly against the Queen. He was known throughout Denmark as the man whom the King delighted to honour, and even Matilda was forced to show public marks of favour to the man whom she considered her worst enemy. For instance, in September she was compelled by the King to attend Holck’s wedding to a daughter of Count Laurvig, “an honour,” to quote the English envoy, “never before conferred in this kingdom upon any subject when the ceremony was performed out of the palace; but indeed the whole of this had more the appearance of the nuptials of a prince of the blood than those of a private person, the King having conveyed Count Holck in his Majesty’s chariot, at the same time giving him the right hand from Frederiksberg to Copenhagen, the Queen and all the court following”.[117]Holck’s marriage made no difference to his mode of life, and Christian’s infatuation for his favourite continued as great as before. Mounted couriers tore along the road between the Blaagaard, where Holck lived, and the King’s palace at all hours of the day and night, and on one occasion two horses were killed in the wild haste with which the horseman rode to convey the King’s message to his favourite.[117]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, September 30, 1769.William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, brother of Queen Matilda.WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, BROTHER OF QUEEN MATILDA.From the Painting by H. W. Hamilton, 1771.Nine months had passed since Christian’s return from abroad, and it was at last seen by his subjects that the hopes they had formed of their King’s reformation were doomed to disappointment. Thecostly experiment of foreign travel had proved a failure. True, he no longer scandalised his people with riots in the streets, or his court with shameless disregard of morality, for his strength was no longer equal to such exhibitions. The incessant round of dissipation in London and Paris had shattered an already enfeebled constitution. The King’s tendency to melancholia became more marked every day, and symptoms of the dread malady which before long overtook him began to make themselves apparent. His delusions as to his prowess became more frequent, and he showed strange aberrations of intellect. He was a mental and physical wreck.In October, 1769, Queen Matilda fell ill. Her illness was the crowning indignity and proved the limit of her long-suffering endurance. With it also came to an end the efforts she had bravely made since the King’s return to do her duty to her husband, and lead him to higher things. This was the turning-point of Matilda’s life, and explains, if it does not excuse, much that followed after. She threw down her arms. Insulted and degraded, it is no wonder that the young wife of eighteen was filled with a disgust of life. The remonstrances of her physicians were unavailing, she turned her face to the wall and prayed for death. The Queen’s condition was so serious that the English envoy thought it necessary to write home the following diplomatically worded despatch:—“I am extremely sorry to acquaint your Lordship that the state of the Queen of Denmark’s health haslately presented some very unfavourable symptoms; which have given such apprehensions to her physicians, as to make them think that a perfect re-establishment may be attended with some difficulty, unless her Majesty can be persuaded to pay unusual attention to herself. I am so thoroughly sensible how deeply it would affect the King [George III.] to receive information of a still more alarming nature, and so anxious to prevent it, that I cannot help desiring your Lordship to represent to his Majesty that, though there appears no immediate danger, yet the situation the Queen of Denmark is at present in is too critical not to make it highly necessary to obviate worse symptoms, and as this happy effect depends very much upon her Majesty’s own care, I believe she would be wrought upon by nothing more successfully than by some affectionate expostulations from the King, upon the very great importance of her life.”[118][118]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, November 4, 1769.It was at this critical moment, when her whole being was in passionate revolt, when she was disgusted with her environment, and weary of life, that Matilda’s evil genius appeared upon the scene in the guise of a deliverer. This was the King’s physician—John Frederick Struensee.

THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN.

1769.

On January 14 Christian VII. returned to Copenhagen after an absence of nearly eight months. Queen Matilda drove out to meet him, and husband and wife exchanged affectionate greetings. Together they entered Copenhagen, amid the firing of cannon, ringing of bells, and the joyful acclamations of the people. The English envoy gives the following account of the entry: “The Queen went as far as Röskilde to meet his Majesty, which strong mark of her affection and regard could not fail of affording him the highest satisfaction. Between six and seven o’clock their Majesties made a public entry into this capital, under a triple discharge of the cannon on the ramparts. The whole garrison, as well as the burghers, were under arms, and permission having been given a few days before to illuminate the houses, the inhabitants vied with each other in doing this, as well as the short notice would admit of, and in demonstrating their joy in every other manner they could. The foreign ministers, nobility, etc., attended at the palace of Christiansborg in order to pay their compliments upon thishappy occasion, which the King was pleased to receive, after he had made a short visit to the Dowager-Queens.”[108]

[108]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, January 17, 1769.

Thus did Denmark welcome home her prodigal son.

Queen Matilda had spent the greater part of the time since the King left her at Frederiksborg,[109]some twenty miles from Copenhagen. Frederiksborg was the most magnificent of the country palaces of the Danish King, and has well been called the “Versailles of Denmark”. It stands to this day, and the site is one of the most picturesque in Europe; the buildings cover three islands in a lake, connected by bridges, the palace proper occupying the third island. The exterior is rich in florid ornamentation, carried out in a warm sandstone, which admirably harmonises with the time-stained brick of which the palace is built. The windows look across the green water of the lake—a vivid green nowhere seen as at Frederiksborg—to the gardens,laid out in the old French style, with straight walks and terraces, and clipped hedges of beech and hornbeam. The most magnificent room in Frederiksborg is the knights’ hall, and below it is the church, where the Kings of the Oldenburg line were once wont to be crowned. This church is the most ornate of any in Denmark; everywhere is colour—in the traceried windows and frescoed walls, in the inlaid ivory work of the stalls, the pulpit of ebony and embossed silver, and the purple-vested altar with its golden crucifix. In short, Frederiksborg is a magnificent specimen of the Danish Renaissance, and brings vividly before us the life, the colour and richness which characterised the court life of mediæval Denmark.

[109]Frederiksborg was built early in the seventeenth century by Christian IV. on the site of an old building, and was used as a residence by the Kings of Denmark until 1859 (Frederick VII. usually resided there), when a large part of the building was destroyed by fire. Thanks to the munificence of the King, the Government and the public, and especially to Herr J. C. Jacobsen, a wealthy brewer, who contributed a large sum, the palace has been admirably restored, and the interior is now fitted up as a National Historical Museum. The contents, which include many works of art, illustrating events in Danish history, are not so interesting as one might suppose, but the visitor to Frederiksborg is well repaid by the beauty of its exterior, the magnificence of its chapel, where the work of restoration has been admirably done, and by the old-world charm of its gardens.

At Frederiksborg Matilda spent the summer and autumn months of 1768 alone. She occupied herself for the most part in works of charity, and strove to forget her own sorrows in relieving those of others. There was no philanthropic institution in the kingdom which she did not support, and in her immediate neighbourhood her name became a household word for many acts of kindness and benevolence. The young Queen went in and out among the poor of the adjacent village of Hilleröd, visiting the sick and helping the needy. The fame of her good deeds spread abroad, and the poor throughout Denmark, even thousands to whom she was only a name, came to look upon her as a protectress and a friend. They believed that the golden days of good Queen Louise had comeback again. “The English,” they said, “send us not Queens, but angels.”

For the rest, Matilda lived in great retirement. Occasionally she received visits of ceremony from the Dowager-Queens, from Sophia Magdalena, who lived at Hirschholm, or from Juliana Maria, who lived at Fredensborg. The masked hostility of Juliana Maria continued unabated, but the extreme circumspection of the young Queen’s conduct gave no occasion for cavil. Except the Dowager-Queens she saw no one beyond her immediate household, and though most of these had been forced upon her against her will, yet after the first restraint wore off she showed to them no resentment. Her kindness and consideration won all their hearts, with one exception—that of Fräulein von Eyben, who, though pretending to be devoted to her mistress, was secretly working against her. Matilda took no part in state affairs during the King’s absence, not even in ceremonial duties. Taking their cue from the King, the Ministers who had been left to conduct the business of the state while he was abroad, treated the Queen as a person of little importance, and even neglected to pay her the ordinary visits of ceremony.

Since Madame de Plessen had left the court Matilda had no one to whom she could talk freely, nor, except her sister Augusta of Brunswick, had she any one to whom she could write without restraint. Augusta had her own troubles too, but she kept a warm corner in her heart for her youngestsister, and throughout life remained her truest and staunchest friend. But, at best, letter-writing is a poor substitute for personal converse, and at this time Matilda was much alone.

The young Queen must have often felt friendless and depressed as she paced the terraces of Frederiksborg or looked down from the windows of her apartments into the green water which lapped the castle walls, or gazed out on the clear northern night, and watched the moonlight play on the towers and pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes of a morning she would wander forth to the beech woods beyond the gardens. These beeches, mighty with age, are now, as they were then, one of the features of Frederiksborg. They are always beautiful—beautiful in spring, with their satin-smooth trunks, and branches still leafless, but tipped with brown spikes flushed with purple, and already bursting to disclose the woolly buds of silver within; beautiful in summer, when the pale green leaves form a shimmering canopy overhead; beautiful when the golden hues of autumn mingle with the russet-brown of the cones; beautiful even in winter, when the leafless branches stretch like lacework against the leaden hues of the sky, and the shrill winds from the Baltic whistle through them, and the ground beneath is carpeted with husks of their lavish fruit. Matilda grew to love these beech woods greatly, and even to-day they are associated with her name.

The Queen had one consolation in her loneliness which was not hers when she came to Denmark—she had her son, and found much happiness in him, for the maternal instinct was always strong in her. She could no longer feel a stranger and an alien in a country over which her son would, under Providence, one day rule; she was not merely the King’s wife, but the mother of the future King of Denmark. The Crown Prince was at first sickly and ailing, but when the Queen went to Frederiksborg, in defiance of court etiquette, she took the infant under her immediate care, and kept him with her as much as possible. During the summer, under his mother’s watchful love, the little Prince, whose life was so precious to the Danish nation, grew much stronger. The English envoy mentions an audience he had with the Queen at Frederiksborg soon after her arrival there, and adds: “The Prince Royal, whom her Majesty was pleased to allow me to see, is greatly grown since his removal to the country. The resemblance between his Highness and the King’s (our royal Master’s) family is striking to all those who have had the honour of seeing him.”[110]

[110]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 9, 1768.

The Palace of Fredericksborg, from the garden terrace.THE PALACE OF FREDERIKSBORG, FROM THE GARDEN TERRACE.From an Engraving, temp. 1768.

THE PALACE OF FREDERIKSBORG, FROM THE GARDEN TERRACE.From an Engraving, temp. 1768.

The only ceremonial the Queen attended, in the absence of Christian VII., was the inauguration of an equestrian statue of the late King Frederick V. at Copenhagen in the late autumn. Shortly after this function Matilda removed from the country to the Christiansborg Palace, and there awaited the King, who did not return until two months later than he at first intended. Matilda had now determined to make the best of her husband, notwithstanding the reports which had reached her of his dissipation in London and Paris. He was the father of her child, and her interests were bound up with his. The future happiness of her son, and the prosperity of his kingdom, largely depended on Christian VII. It was clearly the Queen’s duty to put aside her own grievances, however great they might be, and make an effort to guide the King in the right way. Therefore she welcomed him home as affectionately as if no cloud had dimmed their parting eight months before.

The King was surprised and delighted at the change which had taken place in his Queen’s appearance and demeanour. The restful and healthy life she had led at Frederiksborg had added greatly to her charm, her figure had developed and her spirits improved. Christian had left Matilda an unformed girl, he came back to find her a beautiful and self-possessed woman. His wayward fancy was pleased, and soon themotran round the palace that the King had actually fallen in love with his own wife. He might well have done so, for she was by far the most beautiful woman at his court. There is a portrait of Queen Matilda in the Rosenborg at Copenhagen, painted about this time, when she was in her eighteenth year. It represents her in the full bloom of her beauty. The face is a pure oval, the brow lofty and serene, the nose delicately chiselled, the lips full and red, the large eyes of a peculiar shade of light blue, the expression a combination of youthful dignity and sweet archness.Her hair is dressed high, and powdered after the fashion of the time; she wears a blue robe, with a narrow edge of ermine to betoken her queenly rank, and round her finely-moulded throat is a close necklace of pearls. Even if we make allowance for courtly flattery, the picture remains that of a woman of rare loveliness and indescribable charm.

Though her heart was untouched, Matilda was no doubt flattered by her husband’s attentions, and she honestly tried to meet his advances half way. Acting on the advice of her mother, her sister, and of all who wished her well, she strove to please him, and in her desire to hold his fickle favour, she even overlooked the fact that the hated Holck was still in the ascendant. Perhaps she thought, by fair words and guile, to undermine his ascendency. Her efforts, if they did not add to her own happiness, at least conduced to the outward harmony of the royal pair, and were coincident with a marked improvement in Christian’s mode of life. For the first few months after the King’s return this improvement was maintained; the nocturnal expeditions, which had so scandalised the citizens of Copenhagen, were now entirely given up; there were no masquerades, and the court became quite decorous. Formerly the dinner used to be rushed through for the King to hurry off to his apartments and occupy himself in unworthy pursuits. Now the King and Queen dined in public nearly every day, and with much ceremony. The leading ministers, the foreign envoys, and all who distinguished themselves in theservice of church or state, were in turn honoured with invitations, and the conversation at the dinner table became almost intellectual. Yet the court did not grow dull; cotillons and minuets were often danced in the palace, and the opening of the theatre for the season afforded much interest and amusement. The centre of all this pleasant society was the young Queen, the praises of whose beauty and amiability were on every tongue. Moreover, always accompanied by the Queen, the King reviewed the fleet, inspected the docks and fortifications of Copenhagen, and visited learned and scientific institutions with the object of comparing them with those he had seen abroad. The King also again endeavoured to interest himself in affairs of state, attended councils and criticised many details of administration. This remarkable change delighted alike the King’s ministers and his subjects, and they ascribed the improvement quite as much to the influence of the Queen as to the result of his travels. The Queen, it seemed at this time, was likely to become a power in the state. The English envoy writes home:—

“Your Lordship (the Earl of Rochford) has been already acquainted with the change that appeared in his Danish Majesty. Those amusements in which he used to take delight no longer afford him any. The society of the Queen seems alone to constitute his happiness. Her Majesty will now, no doubt, obtain that just and proper degree of influence, which her numberless amiable qualitiesentitle her to, and which she would have much earlier enjoyed, had not the happy effect of it been too much apprehended by some who did not expect to find their account in it.”[111]

[111]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, February 18, 1769.

Impressed, no doubt, by the warmth of his welcome in England, the King of Denmark was now strongly English in his sentiments. He talked much about his English mother, and delighted to honour anything which had to do, even remotely, with England. For instance, he sent the order of the Elephant to Prince George of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the youngest brother of Queen Charlotte; he despatched a pressing invitation to the Duke of Gloucester to visit Copenhagen, and he resolved to celebrate Queen Matilda’s birthday with all possible ceremony, not only as a mark of her new-found favour in his eyes, but also because he wished to pay a compliment, through her, to the royal house of England.

The Duke of Gloucester duly arrived at Copenhagen to take part in the celebration of his sister’s birthday. He was the first of her family whom Matilda had seen since she left home, and she received him with demonstrations of joy. Gunning writes: “Their mutual joy and satisfaction on this occasion was greater than can be expressed”.[112]

[112]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 11, 1769.

William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, was in his twenty-sixth year at the time of his visit to Copenhagen. He was the least intelligent of thenumerous family of Frederick Prince of Wales, but he had some sterling qualities, which made him resemble, more than the other sons, his eldest brother George III. If he lacked the wit and brilliancy of the Duke of York, he did not possess the vices and follies of the Duke of Cumberland. As a boy he was dull and heavy-witted, and the Princess-Dowager cared for him the least of all her children. According to Walpole she used to treat him with severity, and then accuse him of sulking. “No,” said the Duke, on one occasion, “I am not sulking, I am only thinking.” “And pray, of what are you thinking?” asked his mother with scorn. “I am thinking that if ever I have a son, I will not make him as unhappy as you make me.” The Duke of Gloucester grew up a silent, reserved man, and shortly after attaining his majority, he became enamoured of Maria, Dowager-Countess Waldegrave. His passion was the more violent, because of the way his affections had been stunted in his youth, and the obstacles to the attainment of his desire only served to quicken his ardour. The obstacles were considerable, for the Dowager-Countess Waldegrave, in consequence of a stain upon her birth,[113]was hardly a meet woman for the King’sbrother to take to wife, and, on the other hand, as she told him, she was too considerable a person to become his mistress. She was a young, rich and beautiful widow of spotless reputation and boundless ambition. Many suitors were at her feet, among them the Duke of Portland, the best match in England, yet by some strange perversity Lady Waldegrave rejected them all, and engaged in a dalliance with the unattractive Duke of Gloucester. The Duke’s wooing was long and unsatisfactory; the King and the Princess-Dowager did their utmost to break off the affair, the friends of Lady Waldegrave remonstrated, and counselled prudence. But threats, advice and warnings were all in vain, and at last the Duke of Gloucester and Lady Waldegrave were secretly married in September, 1766, in the drawing-room of Lady Waldegrave’s town house, by her domestic chaplain. The secret was jealously guarded; some declared that the young couple were married, others, less charitable, that they ought to be, but the Duke and his Duchess let them gossip as they would. The Duke was always with Lady Waldegrave in public, and his manner to her was exactly the manner a man would treat his honoured wife. The liveryworn by her servants was a compromise between that of the royal family and her own. But the marriage was not declared, and at the time the Duke of Gloucester came to Copenhagen there seemed no probability that it ever would be.[114]

[113]The Dowager-Countess Waldegrave was the illegitimate daughter of Sir Edward Walpole (brother of Horace Walpole), by Mary Clement, a milliner’s apprentice. She was the second and the most beautiful of three beautiful daughters, Laura, Maria and Charlotte. It was said that after the birth of her children, Edward Walpole intended to marry Mary Clement, but she died suddenly, and his honourable intentions were too late. He, however, took the children, acknowledged them, and gave them every advantage of wealth and education. When they grew up, though their birth prevented presentation at court, they were successfully launched into the best society. All three made brilliant marriages. Laura married the Rev. the Hon. Frederick Keppel, brother of the Earl of Albemarle, who subsequently became Bishop of Exeter; Charlotte, Lord Huntingtower, afterwards fifth Earl of Dysart, and Maria, Earl Waldegrave. Lord Waldegrave died a few years after the marriage, leaving his widow three daughters and a large fortune.

[114]The marriage was not declared until 1772, when, in consequence of a bill having been brought into Parliament to regulate royal marriages, the Duke publicly acknowledged Lady Waldegrave as his wife. The King was highly incensed, and Queen Charlotte even more so. They refused to receive the Duchess at court, though the King had to acknowledge the marriage as legal; consequently the Duke and Duchess went to Italy, where they remained for some time. In 1776 they returned to England with their two children, Prince William Henry and the Princess Sophia. Their conduct was so irreproachable that a reconciliation took place between the Duke and the King, and the Duchess of Gloucester and her children were duly acknowledged. Prince William Henry of Gloucester eventually married his cousin, Princess Mary, daughter of George III.

The Duke of Gloucester was received with every mark of respect, and his visit to Copenhagen was a continual round of festivity. There was a grand review of the troops in his honour, and a gala performance at the court theatre. One day the King and Queen and the Duke made an excursion to the ancient castle Kronborg at Elsinore, and were entertained by the commandant of the fortress. The Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, gave adéjeunerto the English Prince at Hirschholm and Count Otto Moltke gave a ball. The Queen’s birthday festivities are described by the English envoy:—

“Saturday, July 22, was the anniversary of the Queen’s birthday, which not having been observed since her Majesty’s arrival in these dominions, by reason of the King of Denmark’s absence, his Majestywas determined to celebrate it now with as much magnificence as possible. The court testified its joy on this occasion by a very numerous and brilliant appearance.... In the evening followed a succession of new entertainments at the court theatre, designed and executed purposely in honour of her Majesty, and the day’s festivity was closed with a great supper at the King’s table. On Monday began the second act of this celebration. At six o’clock in the evening his Majesty and the noblemen who performed a part in the Carousal,[115]richly habited in Turkish dresses, and upon horses finely caparisoned, set out in grand procession through the city, attended by the Horse Guards and by a large band of martial music; at seven the procession returned to the great area of the palace, and as soon as the noblemen, appointed judges, had taken their seats, the exhibition began. One quadrille was led by the King, the other by Count Ahlfeld, governor of the city. The whole ceremony was very magnificent, and performed with the utmost address and good order, in the presence of her Danish Majesty, the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, his Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, the whole court, and several thousand spectators. The performance concluded soon after nine, and was succeeded by an elegant supper and ball. The court returns this evening to Frederiksberg, where there is a grandfirework to be played off; the whole gardens are to be illuminated, and, after a magnificent supper in a large building erected for that purpose, a masquerade ball is intended, to which two thousand persons are to be admitted.”[116]

[115]The Carousal was a musical ride which the King and the courtiers had been rehearsing in the riding school for weeks beforehand.VideGunning’s despatch, April 15, 1769.

[116]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, July 25, 1769.

The Duke of Gloucester left Copenhagen a few days after the Queen’s birthday, and returned to England. Though Christian had prepared all these festivities in his brother-in-law’s honour, he did not hesitate to exercise his wit at the expense of his guest. The Duke was silent and dull, and his lack of conversation was made a subject of ridicule by the garrulous King. One day Christian asked Holck what he thought of the Duke, and the favourite replied: “He reminds me of an English ox!” The Duke was very stout for his age, and had a broad red face and large ruminating eyes. The King laughed at Holck’s witticism, and maliciously repeated it to the Queen, who was incensed at the impertinence. If the truth must be told, the English Prince did not appear in the most favourable light at the Danish court. He stared and said little, and chiefly distinguished himself by his enormous appetite.

When her brother left Copenhagen the Queen found herself once more alone. His visit had been to a great extent a disappointment to her, for he had little in common with his sister, and not much sympathy for her in her troubles. These, as time went on, grew from bad to worse. Despite all herefforts Holck continued in the ascendant, and his influence was wholly against the Queen. He was known throughout Denmark as the man whom the King delighted to honour, and even Matilda was forced to show public marks of favour to the man whom she considered her worst enemy. For instance, in September she was compelled by the King to attend Holck’s wedding to a daughter of Count Laurvig, “an honour,” to quote the English envoy, “never before conferred in this kingdom upon any subject when the ceremony was performed out of the palace; but indeed the whole of this had more the appearance of the nuptials of a prince of the blood than those of a private person, the King having conveyed Count Holck in his Majesty’s chariot, at the same time giving him the right hand from Frederiksberg to Copenhagen, the Queen and all the court following”.[117]Holck’s marriage made no difference to his mode of life, and Christian’s infatuation for his favourite continued as great as before. Mounted couriers tore along the road between the Blaagaard, where Holck lived, and the King’s palace at all hours of the day and night, and on one occasion two horses were killed in the wild haste with which the horseman rode to convey the King’s message to his favourite.

[117]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, September 30, 1769.

William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, brother of Queen Matilda.WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, BROTHER OF QUEEN MATILDA.From the Painting by H. W. Hamilton, 1771.

WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, BROTHER OF QUEEN MATILDA.From the Painting by H. W. Hamilton, 1771.

Nine months had passed since Christian’s return from abroad, and it was at last seen by his subjects that the hopes they had formed of their King’s reformation were doomed to disappointment. Thecostly experiment of foreign travel had proved a failure. True, he no longer scandalised his people with riots in the streets, or his court with shameless disregard of morality, for his strength was no longer equal to such exhibitions. The incessant round of dissipation in London and Paris had shattered an already enfeebled constitution. The King’s tendency to melancholia became more marked every day, and symptoms of the dread malady which before long overtook him began to make themselves apparent. His delusions as to his prowess became more frequent, and he showed strange aberrations of intellect. He was a mental and physical wreck.

In October, 1769, Queen Matilda fell ill. Her illness was the crowning indignity and proved the limit of her long-suffering endurance. With it also came to an end the efforts she had bravely made since the King’s return to do her duty to her husband, and lead him to higher things. This was the turning-point of Matilda’s life, and explains, if it does not excuse, much that followed after. She threw down her arms. Insulted and degraded, it is no wonder that the young wife of eighteen was filled with a disgust of life. The remonstrances of her physicians were unavailing, she turned her face to the wall and prayed for death. The Queen’s condition was so serious that the English envoy thought it necessary to write home the following diplomatically worded despatch:—

“I am extremely sorry to acquaint your Lordship that the state of the Queen of Denmark’s health haslately presented some very unfavourable symptoms; which have given such apprehensions to her physicians, as to make them think that a perfect re-establishment may be attended with some difficulty, unless her Majesty can be persuaded to pay unusual attention to herself. I am so thoroughly sensible how deeply it would affect the King [George III.] to receive information of a still more alarming nature, and so anxious to prevent it, that I cannot help desiring your Lordship to represent to his Majesty that, though there appears no immediate danger, yet the situation the Queen of Denmark is at present in is too critical not to make it highly necessary to obviate worse symptoms, and as this happy effect depends very much upon her Majesty’s own care, I believe she would be wrought upon by nothing more successfully than by some affectionate expostulations from the King, upon the very great importance of her life.”[118]

[118]Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, November 4, 1769.

It was at this critical moment, when her whole being was in passionate revolt, when she was disgusted with her environment, and weary of life, that Matilda’s evil genius appeared upon the scene in the guise of a deliverer. This was the King’s physician—John Frederick Struensee.

CHAPTER XII.STRUENSEE.1737-1769.John Frederick Struensee was born at Halle, an old town in northern Germany, on August 5, 1737. His father, Adam Struensee, was a zealous Lutheran minister; his mother was the daughter of a doctor named Carl, a clever man, much given to mysticism, who had been physician-in-ordinary to King Christian VI. of Denmark. The Struensee family was of obscure origin. The first Struensee of whom anything is known began life under a different name. He was a pilot at Lubeck, and during a terrible storm, in which no other man dared venture out to sea, he brought into port a richly laden vessel. In honour of his courageous deed he received from the corporation of Lubeck the name of Strouvensee, which means a dark, stormy sea—a fit emblem of his descendant’s troubled career.John Frederick Struensee received his early education at the grammar school of his native town. It was not a good education, for the masters were imperfectly educated themselves, but the boy was so extraordinarily precocious, and had such a thirst for knowledge, that he soon absorbed all that histutors could teach him, and began to educate himself. The wave of mysticism was then passing over northern Germany, and Struensee’s teachers were infected with it, and no doubt communicated their views to their pupil, for Struensee was all his life something of a mystic, or, to speak more correctly, a fatalist. Despite the orthodox Protestantism of his parents, the younger Struensee’s eager and inquiring mind had always an inclination to scepticism, and before he had attained man’s estate he was already a freethinker on most matters of religion. He seems always to have retained a belief in God, or a First Cause, but he never had the conviction that man enjoyed a future life: he held that his existence was bounded by this life, and always acted on that assumption. Side by side with the mysticism which was permeating northern Germany there existed a religious revival. The theory of conversion, whereby a man was suddenly and miraculously converted from his evil ways and made sure of future salvation, was peculiarly acceptable to many, and amongst Struensee’s companions were youths of notoriously loose morals who declared that they had suddenly “found salvation”. As this declaration was not always accompanied by a corresponding change of life, Struensee hastily and unjustly came to the conclusion that all religion was little more than an organised hypocrisy. His father’s long sermons, to which he was compelled to listen Sunday after Sunday, left no impression on his heart, and his sire’s private exhortations to his son to change his life,and flee from the wrath to come, wearied him. His mother, who had inherited her father’s mystical views, and supplemented them with her husband’s hard and uncompromising evangelicalism, also lectured her son until the limits of his patience were exhausted, and he resolved as soon as possible to quit a home where he was unhappy.Struensee exhibited remarkable abilities at an early age; he matriculated at the university of Halle in his fourteenth year, and he had not completed his twentieth when he received the degree of doctor. Notwithstanding these academic distinctions, he was unable at first to earn money, and his means were so limited that he was forced to remain, an unwilling dweller, in the house of his parents. Even at that early age his enterprising and restless mind and his unbridled ambition began to make themselves manifest; his academic successes he considered merely as steps towards further greatness. His father used to warn him against worldly ambition and intellectual pride, but his exhortations fell on deaf ears.In 1757, when Struensee was twenty years old, his father received “a call” to become chief preacher of the principal church of Altona, a city situated on the northern bank of the Elbe, within the kingdom of Denmark. This change in the family fortunes was destined to exercise a material influence on Struensee’s future. The young doctor accompanied his father to Altona, and in a few months was appointed town physician, and country physician ofthe adjacent lordship of Pinneberg and the county of Rantzau. The elder Struensee did not remain long at Altona, for the fervour of his eloquence soon brought him preferment, and he was appointed by the Danish Government superintendent-general of the clergy of the duchy of Holstein, an office equivalent, in influence and importance, to that of bishop. Left to himself, the young doctor bought a house in Altona, and set up his own establishment. He entertained freely some of the principal people in Altona. Struensee was a pleasant host and clever conversationalist, and early gave evidence of those social qualities which afterwards proved useful to him. But his polish was superficial, and concealed his natural roughness and lack of refinement. He would do anything to gain notoriety, and to this end affected the bizarre; for instance, he had two skeletons with candles in their hands placed one on either side of his bed, and by the light of these weird candelabra he read himself to sleep.As Struensee’s establishment was expensive and his means limited, he invited a literary man named Penning to live with him and share expenses. In 1763 the two started a magazine calledThe Monthly Journal of Instruction and Amusement. The magazine was not a financial success, and at the end of six months ceased to exist. It did not contain anything very wonderful; perhaps the most remarkable article was one headed “Thoughts of a Surgeon about the Causes of Depopulation in a given country,” which was written by Struensee, and contained ideason population which he afterwards put in practice. Struensee also published some medico-scientific treatises, but nothing of any great merit. He did not distinguish himself as a writer, but he was without doubt a widely read man; his favourite author was Voltaire, and next to him he placed Rousseau. He was also much influenced by the writings of Helvetius. Struensee was a deep, if not always an original, thinker, and his ideas generally were in advance of his time.In Altona Struensee soon won a reputation as a successful doctor, and his handsome person and agreeable manners made him very popular, especially with women. The good-looking young physician gained through his lady patients (and it was his boast that women were his best friends) access to the best houses in, and around, Altona. He made the acquaintance of Count Schack Karl Rantzau, the eldest son of Count Rantzau-Ascheberg, one of the most considerable noblemen in Holstein, the owner of vast estates, a Danish privy councillor, and a Count of the Holy Roman Empire. Of Count Schack Karl Rantzau we shall have occasion to write at length later; suffice it here to say that he was already middle-aged when Struensee met him, and had led a wild and disreputable life. Struensee was useful to him in no creditable way, and before long the two became very intimate. They made an informal covenant that if either attained power he should help the other. But at present nothing seemed more unlikely, and Rantzau gave Struenseeonly promises and flattery, which, however, were enough, for the young doctor was very vain, and moreover exceedingly fond of the society of titled and highly placed personages.Struensee also visited the house of the Baron Söhlenthal, who was the stepfather of Enevold Brandt, and thus became acquainted with Christian VII.’s one-time favourite. Struensee had also attended, in a professional capacity, Madame von Berkentin, who was later appointed chief lady to the Crown Prince Frederick; and it was at her house that he said, half in jest and half in earnest: “If my lady patronesses will only contrive to get me to Copenhagen, then I will carry all before me”.But for a long time he remained at Altona and all these fine acquaintances had no other effect than making his scale of living much higher than his circumstances warranted. He became considerably in debt, and this, added to dislike of his calling, for his ambition soared high above the position of a country doctor, made him restless and discontented. He was on the point of resigning his post, and taking a voyage to Malaga and the East Indies, partly to escape his difficulties, partly on account of his health, when a very different prospect revealed itself to him. The night is darkest before the dawn, and dark though Struensee’s fortunes were at this moment, the gloom soon vanished in the dawn of a golden future.Christian VII., with a numerous suite, was then passing through Holstein, preparatory to starting onhis prolonged tour in England and France. The King’s health was far from strong, and it was necessary that he should have a physician to accompany him on his travels; for this purpose a young and active man who could adapt himself readily to the King’s eccentricities was preferable to the older and staider court physicians, who indeed showed no inclination to undertake the task. Struensee strained every nerve to obtain the post, and was strongly recommended by Rantzau and Madame von Berkentin. The King had heard of the young physician of Altona through Brandt, before the latter had fallen into disgrace. Holck also knew something of him, and said that he would serve. As Holck’s slightest recommendation carried weight with the King, Struensee obtained the coveted post, and was appointed travelling physician. On June 6, 1768, he joined the King’s suite near Hamburg, and entered at once upon his duties.Struensee at first did not occupy a prominent place in the King’s suite. His profession of itself did not entitle him to be a member of the first three classes who were received at court. His position was a middle one, between the lackeys and those members of the King’s suite who ranked as gentlemen, and it must have been uncomfortable. Some little difficulty arose as to with whom he should travel, but he was finally given a seat in the coach of Bernstorff’s secretary. Struensee was not a man to be content to remain long in an anomalous position, and he proceeded, very cautiously at first, to makehis situation better. As the King’s physician he had unique opportunities, and made the most of them. Christian was a hypochondriac, who imagined himself ill when he was not, and often made himself really ill from his excesses; he loved to talk about his ailments, and Struensee listened with sympathetic deference. The King, who was always wanting to be amused, found the doctor a pleasant companion. He discovered that he could talk on a great many matters besides his profession, that he was widely read, and had a considerable knowledge of philosophy and French literature, in which Christian was genuinely interested. He supplied a void which could not be filled by Holck, who cared nothing for literature or abstruse speculations, and whose tastes were purely material.The King’s suite soon began to remark the pleasure which the King took in conversing with his doctor, but Struensee was so modest, so anxious to please every one, that he did not arouse feelings of jealousy. He was especially careful to avoid political discussions, and never made the slightest allusion to affairs at home. He was also very discreet, and never spoke about his royal master, or his ailments, or made any allusion to the escapades in which the King and his favourites indulged. So far did Struensee carry this caution, that during the King’s tour he rarely wrote home to his parents and friends, and when he did, he restricted himself to indifferent topics. His father thought this apparent forgetfulness was because his son had losthis head in consequence of his good fortune. “I knew,” he said to a friend, “that John would not be able to bear the favour of his monarch.” But Struensee had intuitively learned the lesson that the word written over the gateway of all kings’ palaces is “silence!” His position, though pleasant, was precarious; he was only the travelling physician, and his appointment would come to an end when the King returned home. It was Struensee’s object to change this temporary appointment into a permanent one, and from the first moment he entered the King’s service he kept this end steadily in view. Struensee had another characteristic, which in the end proved fatal to him, but which at first helped him with both the King and Holck. Side by side with his undoubted brain power, there existed a strong vein of sensuality, and he readily lent himself to pandering to the King’s weaknesses in this respect. Struensee had no sense of morality; he was a law unto himself, and his freethinking views on this and other questions were peculiarly acceptable to his royal master.Struensee had a certain measure of success in England, and through the King of Denmark’s favour, he was invited to many entertainments to which his position would not otherwise have entitled him. His reputation for gallantry was hardly inferior to that of Holck. It is stated that Struensee fell violently in love with an English lady of beauty and fortune, and his passion was returned. He wore her miniature next his heart, and it wasfound upon him after his death—but this rests on hearsay. What is certain, during his sojourn in England, is that he received honorary degrees, from the universities of Oxford and Cambridge; and he took riding lessons at Astley’s, and became an expert horseman.Struensee accompanied the King to Paris, and took part in the pleasures of that gay capital. Struensee visited the gallery at Fontainebleau where Queen Christina of Sweden, after her abdication, had her secretary and favourite Monaldeschi murdered, or, as she regarded it, executed. Soon after he returned to Denmark Struensee told his brother that he had been induced to visit the gallery by a dream, in which there appeared before him the vision of an exalted lady whose name he hardly dared to mention. He meant, of course, Queen Matilda. His brother heard him in ominous silence, and Struensee, after waiting some time for an answer, quoted his favourite maxim: “Everything is possible”.In January, 1769, Struensee returned to Altona in the King’s suite. The place and time had now come for him to take leave of his royal master, and retire once more into the obscurity of a country doctor—a prospect which, after his sojourn at glittering courts, filled him with dismay. But Bernstorff and Schimmelmann, whose good offices he had assiduously courted during the tour, spoke on his behalf to the King, and Christian appointed Struensee his surgeon-in-ordinary, with a salary ofa thousand dollars a year, and as a mark of his royal esteem gave him a further five hundred dollars. Struensee remained at Altona for a few weeks after the King had left for Copenhagen to sell his house, pay his debts and wind up his affairs. He visited his parents at Schleswig to receive their congratulations and take leave of them. His father shook his head doubtfully over his godless son’s rapid rise in the world, and his mother warned him against the perils and temptations of the wicked court. But Struensee, flushed with his success, was in no mood to listen to their croakings. He believed in himself, and he believed in his destiny. “Everything is possible,” he said. The desire of his youth was gratified before he had arrived at middle age. He was going to Copenhagen, and what was more, to court; the future was in his own hands.Struensee arrived at Copenhagen in February, 1769, and at first seemed to occupy himself only with his duties as the King’s surgeon-in-ordinary. But all the while he was feeling his way, and every week he strengthened his position with the King. It was not long before Struensee set himself to undermine the influence of Holck. He first frightened the King about the state of his health, and then diplomatically represented to him that the immoderate dissipation, in which he had been in the habit of indulging with Holck, was bad for him, and should be avoided. Struensee did not take a high moral ground; on the contrary, hepointed out that greater pleasure might be obtained by moderation than by excess. He also counselled the King to occupy himself with public affairs, and so keep his mind from brooding upon his ailments, and to take outdoor exercise. All this advice was good, and the King followed it with manifest benefit to his health. He stayed less indoors, and drove out frequently, accompanied by the Queen, to the chase, until one day the horses got restive and the carriage was overturned, and threw both the King and the Queen on the ground. Fortunately, they both escaped unhurt, but after this incident Christian became nervous and would not hunt any more.In May, 1769, the King was pleased to show his appreciation of Struensee by making him an actual councillor of state, which admitted the doctor to the third class, or order of rank,[119]and thus permitted him to attend the court festivities. During the summer Christian’s health became more feeble, in consequence of his epileptic seizures, and Struensee became resident physician. He made use of this privilege to observe more closely the state of affairs in the royal household, seeking always to turn things to his own benefit. He formed the acquaintance of every member of the household, not despisingeven the valets, and studied their character and peculiarities.[119]To the first class belonged the privy councillors of state, the generals and lieutenant-generals, admirals and vice-admirals, and the Counts of Danneskjold-Samsöe (by reason of birth); to the second class the councillors of conference, major-generals and rear-admirals; and to the third, actual councillors of state, colonels and commanders. These three classes only had the right to attend court.Struensee found that the conflicting elements at the Danish court might be roughly divided into two parties. The party in the ascendant was that of Holck, or rather of Bernstorff, for Holck took no part in politics. But he was supported by the ministers in power, with Bernstorff at their head, who made use of his influence with the King. Behind Bernstorff again was the power and favour of Russia. The other party was nominally that of the Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria, and Prince Frederick, the King’s brother. This, owing to the unpopularity of the Queen-Dowager, was small, and included chiefly malcontents, who were opposed, either to the policy of the Government, or to the new order of things at court. It was supported, however, by many of the Danish nobility, men of considerable weight and influence in their provinces, and the great body of the clergy, who were a power in the state. In short, it represented the forces of reaction, which had gathered around the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, before she retired from public affairs. It was also supported by French influence which, since the rise of Bernstorff, had declined in Copenhagen.Between these two factions stood the reigning Queen. She was neglected by both of them, but, during the spring of 1769, after the King’s return, she asserted herself in a way which showed to a shrewd observer like Struensee that she would notalways submit to be treated as a nonentity. The Queen had not yet realised the inherent strength of her position as the wife of the reigning King and the mother of the future one. It was a position which would grow stronger as her husband grew weaker.Struensee grasped the situation a few months after his arrival in Copenhagen, and with sublime audacity resolved to turn it to his advantage. Neither of the existing parties in the state would ever be likely to give him what he most desired—political power. The party of Bernstorff would help him in little things. If the doctor proved useful to them with the King, he would be rewarded with money, a higher place at court, a decoration, possibly a title. But that would be all. The reactionary party of Juliana Maria would not do so much; they might employ him in their intrigues, but the haughty Danish nobility, who formed its backbone, would never admit a German doctor of obscure birth to terms of equality. But Struensee’s soaring ambition knew no bounds. He determined to win both place and power, and to do this he realised that it was necessary to form a new party—that of the Queen.Struensee.STRUENSEE.From an Engraving, 1771.The material was ready for the moulding. The Queen was opposed to the party in power; she hated Holck and disliked Bernstorff; nor was she any more well-disposed towards the party of Juliana Maria. Matilda was young, beautiful and beloved by the people, who sympathised with her wrongs, andwould gladly see her take a more prominent position in the state. No one knew better than Struensee, the confidential doctor, that Christian VII. would never again be able to exercise direct power. He was a mental and physical wreck, and it was only a question of a year, perhaps only of a few months, before he drifted into imbecility. But in theory, at least, he would still reign, though the government would have to be carried on by others. On whom, then, would the regal authority so properly devolve as upon the Queen, the mother of the future King? The ball was at her feet if she would stoop to pick it up. Matilda had only to assert herself to be invested with the King’s absolute power—power which, since she was a young and inexperienced woman, she would surely delegate to other hands. And here the ambitious adventurer saw his opportunity.There was at first a drawback to Struensee’s schemes; the Queen would have nothing to do with him. Matilda was prejudiced against the doctor; he was the King’s favourite, and she imagined he was of the same calibre as Holck and the rest of Christian’s favourites—a mere panderer to his vicious follies. Shortly after his arrival at Copenhagen, before he grasped the situation at court, Struensee had made a false step. He had sought to intrigue the King with one Madame Gabel, a beautiful and clever woman, who was to play the part of his Egeria—for the benefit of the doctor. But Madame Gabel died suddenly and the plot was foiled. TheQueen had heard of this episode and disliked Struensee accordingly. She ignored him, and for nine months after his arrival at court (from February to October, 1769), he had not the honour of a word with her. But Struensee was by no means daunted by the Queen’s dislike of him; he regarded it as an obstacle in the path of his ambition, which like other obstacles would have to be overcome. He waited for an opportunity to dispel her prejudice, and it came with the Queen’s illness.Matilda had reached the point of despair. The court physicians could do nothing with her, she rejected their remedies and turned a deaf ear to all remonstrances. Matters went from bad to worse until the Queen’s life was thought to be in danger. As we have seen, the English envoy suggested that George III. should write a private letter of remonstrance to his sister. Whether the suggestion was acted upon or not there is no record to tell, but remonstrance came from another quarter. Christian VII., who had grown into a liking for his wife, became very much alarmed, and at last, perhaps at Struensee’s suggestion, commanded that the Queen should see his own private physician, in whom he had great confidence. Matilda refused; all that she knew of the doctor filled her with suspicion and dislike. But the King insisted, and at last she yielded to his commands, and admitted Struensee to her presence. It was the crisis in her destiny.

STRUENSEE.

1737-1769.

John Frederick Struensee was born at Halle, an old town in northern Germany, on August 5, 1737. His father, Adam Struensee, was a zealous Lutheran minister; his mother was the daughter of a doctor named Carl, a clever man, much given to mysticism, who had been physician-in-ordinary to King Christian VI. of Denmark. The Struensee family was of obscure origin. The first Struensee of whom anything is known began life under a different name. He was a pilot at Lubeck, and during a terrible storm, in which no other man dared venture out to sea, he brought into port a richly laden vessel. In honour of his courageous deed he received from the corporation of Lubeck the name of Strouvensee, which means a dark, stormy sea—a fit emblem of his descendant’s troubled career.

John Frederick Struensee received his early education at the grammar school of his native town. It was not a good education, for the masters were imperfectly educated themselves, but the boy was so extraordinarily precocious, and had such a thirst for knowledge, that he soon absorbed all that histutors could teach him, and began to educate himself. The wave of mysticism was then passing over northern Germany, and Struensee’s teachers were infected with it, and no doubt communicated their views to their pupil, for Struensee was all his life something of a mystic, or, to speak more correctly, a fatalist. Despite the orthodox Protestantism of his parents, the younger Struensee’s eager and inquiring mind had always an inclination to scepticism, and before he had attained man’s estate he was already a freethinker on most matters of religion. He seems always to have retained a belief in God, or a First Cause, but he never had the conviction that man enjoyed a future life: he held that his existence was bounded by this life, and always acted on that assumption. Side by side with the mysticism which was permeating northern Germany there existed a religious revival. The theory of conversion, whereby a man was suddenly and miraculously converted from his evil ways and made sure of future salvation, was peculiarly acceptable to many, and amongst Struensee’s companions were youths of notoriously loose morals who declared that they had suddenly “found salvation”. As this declaration was not always accompanied by a corresponding change of life, Struensee hastily and unjustly came to the conclusion that all religion was little more than an organised hypocrisy. His father’s long sermons, to which he was compelled to listen Sunday after Sunday, left no impression on his heart, and his sire’s private exhortations to his son to change his life,and flee from the wrath to come, wearied him. His mother, who had inherited her father’s mystical views, and supplemented them with her husband’s hard and uncompromising evangelicalism, also lectured her son until the limits of his patience were exhausted, and he resolved as soon as possible to quit a home where he was unhappy.

Struensee exhibited remarkable abilities at an early age; he matriculated at the university of Halle in his fourteenth year, and he had not completed his twentieth when he received the degree of doctor. Notwithstanding these academic distinctions, he was unable at first to earn money, and his means were so limited that he was forced to remain, an unwilling dweller, in the house of his parents. Even at that early age his enterprising and restless mind and his unbridled ambition began to make themselves manifest; his academic successes he considered merely as steps towards further greatness. His father used to warn him against worldly ambition and intellectual pride, but his exhortations fell on deaf ears.

In 1757, when Struensee was twenty years old, his father received “a call” to become chief preacher of the principal church of Altona, a city situated on the northern bank of the Elbe, within the kingdom of Denmark. This change in the family fortunes was destined to exercise a material influence on Struensee’s future. The young doctor accompanied his father to Altona, and in a few months was appointed town physician, and country physician ofthe adjacent lordship of Pinneberg and the county of Rantzau. The elder Struensee did not remain long at Altona, for the fervour of his eloquence soon brought him preferment, and he was appointed by the Danish Government superintendent-general of the clergy of the duchy of Holstein, an office equivalent, in influence and importance, to that of bishop. Left to himself, the young doctor bought a house in Altona, and set up his own establishment. He entertained freely some of the principal people in Altona. Struensee was a pleasant host and clever conversationalist, and early gave evidence of those social qualities which afterwards proved useful to him. But his polish was superficial, and concealed his natural roughness and lack of refinement. He would do anything to gain notoriety, and to this end affected the bizarre; for instance, he had two skeletons with candles in their hands placed one on either side of his bed, and by the light of these weird candelabra he read himself to sleep.

As Struensee’s establishment was expensive and his means limited, he invited a literary man named Penning to live with him and share expenses. In 1763 the two started a magazine calledThe Monthly Journal of Instruction and Amusement. The magazine was not a financial success, and at the end of six months ceased to exist. It did not contain anything very wonderful; perhaps the most remarkable article was one headed “Thoughts of a Surgeon about the Causes of Depopulation in a given country,” which was written by Struensee, and contained ideason population which he afterwards put in practice. Struensee also published some medico-scientific treatises, but nothing of any great merit. He did not distinguish himself as a writer, but he was without doubt a widely read man; his favourite author was Voltaire, and next to him he placed Rousseau. He was also much influenced by the writings of Helvetius. Struensee was a deep, if not always an original, thinker, and his ideas generally were in advance of his time.

In Altona Struensee soon won a reputation as a successful doctor, and his handsome person and agreeable manners made him very popular, especially with women. The good-looking young physician gained through his lady patients (and it was his boast that women were his best friends) access to the best houses in, and around, Altona. He made the acquaintance of Count Schack Karl Rantzau, the eldest son of Count Rantzau-Ascheberg, one of the most considerable noblemen in Holstein, the owner of vast estates, a Danish privy councillor, and a Count of the Holy Roman Empire. Of Count Schack Karl Rantzau we shall have occasion to write at length later; suffice it here to say that he was already middle-aged when Struensee met him, and had led a wild and disreputable life. Struensee was useful to him in no creditable way, and before long the two became very intimate. They made an informal covenant that if either attained power he should help the other. But at present nothing seemed more unlikely, and Rantzau gave Struenseeonly promises and flattery, which, however, were enough, for the young doctor was very vain, and moreover exceedingly fond of the society of titled and highly placed personages.

Struensee also visited the house of the Baron Söhlenthal, who was the stepfather of Enevold Brandt, and thus became acquainted with Christian VII.’s one-time favourite. Struensee had also attended, in a professional capacity, Madame von Berkentin, who was later appointed chief lady to the Crown Prince Frederick; and it was at her house that he said, half in jest and half in earnest: “If my lady patronesses will only contrive to get me to Copenhagen, then I will carry all before me”.

But for a long time he remained at Altona and all these fine acquaintances had no other effect than making his scale of living much higher than his circumstances warranted. He became considerably in debt, and this, added to dislike of his calling, for his ambition soared high above the position of a country doctor, made him restless and discontented. He was on the point of resigning his post, and taking a voyage to Malaga and the East Indies, partly to escape his difficulties, partly on account of his health, when a very different prospect revealed itself to him. The night is darkest before the dawn, and dark though Struensee’s fortunes were at this moment, the gloom soon vanished in the dawn of a golden future.

Christian VII., with a numerous suite, was then passing through Holstein, preparatory to starting onhis prolonged tour in England and France. The King’s health was far from strong, and it was necessary that he should have a physician to accompany him on his travels; for this purpose a young and active man who could adapt himself readily to the King’s eccentricities was preferable to the older and staider court physicians, who indeed showed no inclination to undertake the task. Struensee strained every nerve to obtain the post, and was strongly recommended by Rantzau and Madame von Berkentin. The King had heard of the young physician of Altona through Brandt, before the latter had fallen into disgrace. Holck also knew something of him, and said that he would serve. As Holck’s slightest recommendation carried weight with the King, Struensee obtained the coveted post, and was appointed travelling physician. On June 6, 1768, he joined the King’s suite near Hamburg, and entered at once upon his duties.

Struensee at first did not occupy a prominent place in the King’s suite. His profession of itself did not entitle him to be a member of the first three classes who were received at court. His position was a middle one, between the lackeys and those members of the King’s suite who ranked as gentlemen, and it must have been uncomfortable. Some little difficulty arose as to with whom he should travel, but he was finally given a seat in the coach of Bernstorff’s secretary. Struensee was not a man to be content to remain long in an anomalous position, and he proceeded, very cautiously at first, to makehis situation better. As the King’s physician he had unique opportunities, and made the most of them. Christian was a hypochondriac, who imagined himself ill when he was not, and often made himself really ill from his excesses; he loved to talk about his ailments, and Struensee listened with sympathetic deference. The King, who was always wanting to be amused, found the doctor a pleasant companion. He discovered that he could talk on a great many matters besides his profession, that he was widely read, and had a considerable knowledge of philosophy and French literature, in which Christian was genuinely interested. He supplied a void which could not be filled by Holck, who cared nothing for literature or abstruse speculations, and whose tastes were purely material.

The King’s suite soon began to remark the pleasure which the King took in conversing with his doctor, but Struensee was so modest, so anxious to please every one, that he did not arouse feelings of jealousy. He was especially careful to avoid political discussions, and never made the slightest allusion to affairs at home. He was also very discreet, and never spoke about his royal master, or his ailments, or made any allusion to the escapades in which the King and his favourites indulged. So far did Struensee carry this caution, that during the King’s tour he rarely wrote home to his parents and friends, and when he did, he restricted himself to indifferent topics. His father thought this apparent forgetfulness was because his son had losthis head in consequence of his good fortune. “I knew,” he said to a friend, “that John would not be able to bear the favour of his monarch.” But Struensee had intuitively learned the lesson that the word written over the gateway of all kings’ palaces is “silence!” His position, though pleasant, was precarious; he was only the travelling physician, and his appointment would come to an end when the King returned home. It was Struensee’s object to change this temporary appointment into a permanent one, and from the first moment he entered the King’s service he kept this end steadily in view. Struensee had another characteristic, which in the end proved fatal to him, but which at first helped him with both the King and Holck. Side by side with his undoubted brain power, there existed a strong vein of sensuality, and he readily lent himself to pandering to the King’s weaknesses in this respect. Struensee had no sense of morality; he was a law unto himself, and his freethinking views on this and other questions were peculiarly acceptable to his royal master.

Struensee had a certain measure of success in England, and through the King of Denmark’s favour, he was invited to many entertainments to which his position would not otherwise have entitled him. His reputation for gallantry was hardly inferior to that of Holck. It is stated that Struensee fell violently in love with an English lady of beauty and fortune, and his passion was returned. He wore her miniature next his heart, and it wasfound upon him after his death—but this rests on hearsay. What is certain, during his sojourn in England, is that he received honorary degrees, from the universities of Oxford and Cambridge; and he took riding lessons at Astley’s, and became an expert horseman.

Struensee accompanied the King to Paris, and took part in the pleasures of that gay capital. Struensee visited the gallery at Fontainebleau where Queen Christina of Sweden, after her abdication, had her secretary and favourite Monaldeschi murdered, or, as she regarded it, executed. Soon after he returned to Denmark Struensee told his brother that he had been induced to visit the gallery by a dream, in which there appeared before him the vision of an exalted lady whose name he hardly dared to mention. He meant, of course, Queen Matilda. His brother heard him in ominous silence, and Struensee, after waiting some time for an answer, quoted his favourite maxim: “Everything is possible”.

In January, 1769, Struensee returned to Altona in the King’s suite. The place and time had now come for him to take leave of his royal master, and retire once more into the obscurity of a country doctor—a prospect which, after his sojourn at glittering courts, filled him with dismay. But Bernstorff and Schimmelmann, whose good offices he had assiduously courted during the tour, spoke on his behalf to the King, and Christian appointed Struensee his surgeon-in-ordinary, with a salary ofa thousand dollars a year, and as a mark of his royal esteem gave him a further five hundred dollars. Struensee remained at Altona for a few weeks after the King had left for Copenhagen to sell his house, pay his debts and wind up his affairs. He visited his parents at Schleswig to receive their congratulations and take leave of them. His father shook his head doubtfully over his godless son’s rapid rise in the world, and his mother warned him against the perils and temptations of the wicked court. But Struensee, flushed with his success, was in no mood to listen to their croakings. He believed in himself, and he believed in his destiny. “Everything is possible,” he said. The desire of his youth was gratified before he had arrived at middle age. He was going to Copenhagen, and what was more, to court; the future was in his own hands.

Struensee arrived at Copenhagen in February, 1769, and at first seemed to occupy himself only with his duties as the King’s surgeon-in-ordinary. But all the while he was feeling his way, and every week he strengthened his position with the King. It was not long before Struensee set himself to undermine the influence of Holck. He first frightened the King about the state of his health, and then diplomatically represented to him that the immoderate dissipation, in which he had been in the habit of indulging with Holck, was bad for him, and should be avoided. Struensee did not take a high moral ground; on the contrary, hepointed out that greater pleasure might be obtained by moderation than by excess. He also counselled the King to occupy himself with public affairs, and so keep his mind from brooding upon his ailments, and to take outdoor exercise. All this advice was good, and the King followed it with manifest benefit to his health. He stayed less indoors, and drove out frequently, accompanied by the Queen, to the chase, until one day the horses got restive and the carriage was overturned, and threw both the King and the Queen on the ground. Fortunately, they both escaped unhurt, but after this incident Christian became nervous and would not hunt any more.

In May, 1769, the King was pleased to show his appreciation of Struensee by making him an actual councillor of state, which admitted the doctor to the third class, or order of rank,[119]and thus permitted him to attend the court festivities. During the summer Christian’s health became more feeble, in consequence of his epileptic seizures, and Struensee became resident physician. He made use of this privilege to observe more closely the state of affairs in the royal household, seeking always to turn things to his own benefit. He formed the acquaintance of every member of the household, not despisingeven the valets, and studied their character and peculiarities.

[119]To the first class belonged the privy councillors of state, the generals and lieutenant-generals, admirals and vice-admirals, and the Counts of Danneskjold-Samsöe (by reason of birth); to the second class the councillors of conference, major-generals and rear-admirals; and to the third, actual councillors of state, colonels and commanders. These three classes only had the right to attend court.

Struensee found that the conflicting elements at the Danish court might be roughly divided into two parties. The party in the ascendant was that of Holck, or rather of Bernstorff, for Holck took no part in politics. But he was supported by the ministers in power, with Bernstorff at their head, who made use of his influence with the King. Behind Bernstorff again was the power and favour of Russia. The other party was nominally that of the Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria, and Prince Frederick, the King’s brother. This, owing to the unpopularity of the Queen-Dowager, was small, and included chiefly malcontents, who were opposed, either to the policy of the Government, or to the new order of things at court. It was supported, however, by many of the Danish nobility, men of considerable weight and influence in their provinces, and the great body of the clergy, who were a power in the state. In short, it represented the forces of reaction, which had gathered around the Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, before she retired from public affairs. It was also supported by French influence which, since the rise of Bernstorff, had declined in Copenhagen.

Between these two factions stood the reigning Queen. She was neglected by both of them, but, during the spring of 1769, after the King’s return, she asserted herself in a way which showed to a shrewd observer like Struensee that she would notalways submit to be treated as a nonentity. The Queen had not yet realised the inherent strength of her position as the wife of the reigning King and the mother of the future one. It was a position which would grow stronger as her husband grew weaker.

Struensee grasped the situation a few months after his arrival in Copenhagen, and with sublime audacity resolved to turn it to his advantage. Neither of the existing parties in the state would ever be likely to give him what he most desired—political power. The party of Bernstorff would help him in little things. If the doctor proved useful to them with the King, he would be rewarded with money, a higher place at court, a decoration, possibly a title. But that would be all. The reactionary party of Juliana Maria would not do so much; they might employ him in their intrigues, but the haughty Danish nobility, who formed its backbone, would never admit a German doctor of obscure birth to terms of equality. But Struensee’s soaring ambition knew no bounds. He determined to win both place and power, and to do this he realised that it was necessary to form a new party—that of the Queen.

Struensee.STRUENSEE.From an Engraving, 1771.

STRUENSEE.From an Engraving, 1771.

The material was ready for the moulding. The Queen was opposed to the party in power; she hated Holck and disliked Bernstorff; nor was she any more well-disposed towards the party of Juliana Maria. Matilda was young, beautiful and beloved by the people, who sympathised with her wrongs, andwould gladly see her take a more prominent position in the state. No one knew better than Struensee, the confidential doctor, that Christian VII. would never again be able to exercise direct power. He was a mental and physical wreck, and it was only a question of a year, perhaps only of a few months, before he drifted into imbecility. But in theory, at least, he would still reign, though the government would have to be carried on by others. On whom, then, would the regal authority so properly devolve as upon the Queen, the mother of the future King? The ball was at her feet if she would stoop to pick it up. Matilda had only to assert herself to be invested with the King’s absolute power—power which, since she was a young and inexperienced woman, she would surely delegate to other hands. And here the ambitious adventurer saw his opportunity.

There was at first a drawback to Struensee’s schemes; the Queen would have nothing to do with him. Matilda was prejudiced against the doctor; he was the King’s favourite, and she imagined he was of the same calibre as Holck and the rest of Christian’s favourites—a mere panderer to his vicious follies. Shortly after his arrival at Copenhagen, before he grasped the situation at court, Struensee had made a false step. He had sought to intrigue the King with one Madame Gabel, a beautiful and clever woman, who was to play the part of his Egeria—for the benefit of the doctor. But Madame Gabel died suddenly and the plot was foiled. TheQueen had heard of this episode and disliked Struensee accordingly. She ignored him, and for nine months after his arrival at court (from February to October, 1769), he had not the honour of a word with her. But Struensee was by no means daunted by the Queen’s dislike of him; he regarded it as an obstacle in the path of his ambition, which like other obstacles would have to be overcome. He waited for an opportunity to dispel her prejudice, and it came with the Queen’s illness.

Matilda had reached the point of despair. The court physicians could do nothing with her, she rejected their remedies and turned a deaf ear to all remonstrances. Matters went from bad to worse until the Queen’s life was thought to be in danger. As we have seen, the English envoy suggested that George III. should write a private letter of remonstrance to his sister. Whether the suggestion was acted upon or not there is no record to tell, but remonstrance came from another quarter. Christian VII., who had grown into a liking for his wife, became very much alarmed, and at last, perhaps at Struensee’s suggestion, commanded that the Queen should see his own private physician, in whom he had great confidence. Matilda refused; all that she knew of the doctor filled her with suspicion and dislike. But the King insisted, and at last she yielded to his commands, and admitted Struensee to her presence. It was the crisis in her destiny.

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