CHAPTER VI.

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

“A DAUGHTER OF ENGLAND.”

1772.

The ill-news from Denmark travelled to England in an incredibly short space of time, considering how slow and difficult was the transmission of news in the eighteenth century. Though nothing definite was known, the air was full of rumours, and the gossips of the clubs and coffee-houses were much exercised over the fate of the Queen of Denmark. The greatest care had been taken to prevent any whisper of the current scandal at the court of Denmark reaching the ears of the English people. The less reputable members of the Opposition, it was thought, would be sure to use the intrigue between the Queen and Struensee as another weapon against the King and the Government. So long back as December 20, 1771, we find Keith writing to Lord Suffolk a private letter detailing the case of one Ball, an English naval surgeon, who had offered his services in aid of the Danish expedition against Algiers. Struensee, who hated every one English, had dismissed his application with scant courtesy, and in revenge Ball had written an angry letter to Struensee, threatening to expose his conduct. Keith continues: “I can hardly suppose that Count Struensee will deign to send an answer to this letter, but, as Mr. Ball has picked up here a number of scandalous stories which might make a figure in a catch-penny pamphlet, I think it my duty to let your Lordship know what may be the possible consequence of his revenging his disappointment by appearing in print. If the Minister was the only person whose name might be mixed up in this altercation, I should be less anxious. Perhaps the Danish envoy in London may obtain for Mr. Ball some additional gratuity which will put an end to the dispute.”[33]

[33]Keith’s despatch, Copenhagen, December 20, 1771.

Whether Ball was muzzled or not there is no record to tell, but the events at the Danish court having culminated in the catastrophe of January 16, it was only a question of time for the scandal to be bruited abroad in every court in Europe, and in England too. As early as January 23 a London newspaper created great excitement by the following paragraph: “It is affirmed by letters from the continent that a royal princess is certainly detained in a tower, inaccessible to every creature, except such as are appointed to attend her, but that an absolute silence is imposed throughout the kingdom on this subject.”[34]

[34]General Evening Post, January 23, 1772.

A few days later Keith’s despatch arrived from Copenhagen, containing a full account of the revolution there, and the arrest and imprisonment of the Queen. Lord Suffolk, the foreign secretary, immediately hastened with it to the King, who was about to hold a levee. George III., who had already heard evil rumours, was so much overcome by this confirmation of them that he immediately put off the levee, and the royal family were thrown into grief and humiliation. Queen Charlotte was highly indignant with her sister-in-law, and went into closest retirement, declaring that she was ashamed to appear in public. The Princess of Brunswick, Matilda’s sister, who was staying in London at the time, wept bitterly. The Princess-Dowager of Wales was seriously ill, and the Princess of Brunswick thought that it was better that her mother should not be told; but the King said: “My motherwillknow everything”; and therefore he went to her directly, and acquainted her with the contents of Keith’s despatch.

The Princess-Dowager was overwhelmed with affliction at the news of this last family disgrace. She had seen it coming for some time, and made every effort to recall her daughter from the error of her ways; but her remonstrances were unheeded, and her advice neglected, and now the ruin which she had foretold had fallen upon the Queen of Denmark. Only a few months before the Princess-Dowager had been annoyed beyond measure by the marriage of her youngest son, Henry Duke of Cumberland, with Mrs. Horton, a beautiful and designing widow,[35]and she had broken off all communication with him in consequence. Her other son, the Duke of Gloucester, who had contracted a similar marriage, soon to be publicly avowed, had added to her anxieties by a dangerous illness. Her eldest daughter, the Princess of Brunswick, was unhappy in her matrimonial relations. Therefore it is no wonder that the proud Princess’s patience gave way under this last disgrace. In the first moments of her grief and anger she turned her face to the wall and prayed for death, and forbade her children and her servants evermore to mention to her the name of Matilda, who, she declared, had ceased to be her daughter. Well might Walpole write: “Such an accumulated succession of mortifications has rarely fallen on a royal family in so short a space. They seem to have inherited the unpropitious star of the Stuarts, from whom they are descended, as well as their crown.”[36]

[35]The Duchess of Cumberland was the widow of Andrew Horton of Catton, and the daughter of Simon Lord Irnham, afterwards Earl of Carhampton. The marriage took place privately on October 2, 1771, at the Hon. Mrs. Horton’s house in Hertford Street, Mayfair. The King, when apprised of the fact, immediately manifested his displeasure by publishing a notice in theLondon Gazetteto the effect that such persons as might choose to wait upon the Duke and the new Duchess would no longer be received at St. James’s. This marriage was the immediate cause of the passing of the Royal Marriage Act, which made such marriages (if contracted without the consent of the reigning sovereign) in future illegal.

[36]Walpole’sReign of George III., vol. iv.

The dishonour of her youngest daughter, coming on the top of all her other mortifications, proved too much even for the indomitable spirit of the Princess-Dowager, and without doubt hastened her death. In any case the end could not have been longdelayed, for she was dying of cancer, and her sufferings the last year of her life had been agonising. Yet to the end she would not admit that she was ill, and bore her pains, like her sorrows, in stern silence. George III., whose pride was deeply wounded by these family scandals, which brought discredit on the throne and the dynasty, greatly sympathised with his mother. Doubtless he took counsel with her as to how he was to act to save his sister Matilda from the worst consequences of her indiscretion, but at first he seems to have done nothing. Perhaps this inaction was due to his great anxiety concerning his mother’s health. He had always been devoted to her, and was now unremitting in his attentions. He visited her every evening at eight o’clock, and remained some hours; but though the Princess was gradually sinking before his eyes, even he did not dare to hint to her that the end was near.

The night before she died the King was so anxious that he anticipated his visit by an hour, pretending that he had mistaken the time, and he brought with him Queen Charlotte. Even then, with the hand of death upon her, the Princess-Dowager rose up and dressed as usual to receive her son and daughter-in-law. She made not the slightest allusion to her state of health, though she kept them in conversation for four hours on other topics. On their rising to take their leave, she said that she should pass a quiet night. The King, who feared she might die at any moment, did not return home, but, unknown to his mother, remained at Carlton House. The Princess-Dowager fought hard for life the first part of the night, but towards morning it became evident even to herself that the end was imminent. She asked her physician how long she had to live. He hesitated. “No matter,” she said, “for I have nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing to leave.”[37]An hour later she was dead. She died so suddenly that the King, although he was resting in an adjoining room, was not in time to be with his mother when she breathed her last. He gained her bedside immediately after, took her hand, kissed it, and burst into tears.

[37]Mrs. Carter’sLetters, vol. iv.

The Princess-Dowager of Wales died in the fifty-third year of her age, at six o’clock in the morning, on February 8, 1772, not long after the terrible news had arrived from Denmark. She therefore died without hearing again of her daughter Matilda. “The calmness and composure of her death,” wrote Bishop Newton, her domestic chaplain, “were further proofs and attestations of the goodness of her life; and she died, as she lived, beloved and lamented most by those who knew her best.”[38]No sooner was this princess, who was cruelly abused all her life, dead, than the papers were filled with praise of her virtues. “Never was a more amiable, a more innocent, or a more benevolent princess,” wrote one, and this was the theme, with variations, of the rest. Without endorsing all this eulogy, itmust be admitted that the Princess-Dowager of Wales was in many ways a princess high above the average. Few women have been more harshly judged, and none on so little evidence. Insult and calumny followed her to the grave. A few days before she died a scandalous libel appeared, and the disgrace of the daughter was seized on as a weapon to attack once more the mother. An indecent scribbler, who signed himself “Atticus,” wrote in thePublic Advertiserof the revolution at Copenhagen as follows:—

“The day was fixed:a Favourite fell. Methinks I hear the Earl of Bute whisper to his poor affrighted soul, and every corner of his hiding places murmur these expressions: ‘God bless us! A known and established Favourite ruined in a single night by a near neighbour—the frenzy may reach this country, and I am undone. Englishmen too are haters of favourites and Scotchmen. Those old rascally Whig families, whose power and virtues seem almost lost, may reunite. In the meantime, I must do something—a lucky thought occurs to me. I’ll fill the minds of the people with prejudices against those haughty Danes. Bradshaw Dyson shall bribe the printers to suppress any contradictory reports. Englishmen are always ready to vindicate injured virtue at any expense; therefore nothing shall be heard but thehonour of the King’s sister!’”

[38]Bishop Newton’s Life of Himself, vol. i.

Thus, even when the poor woman lay dying, the old prejudice was revived. Then, as for a quarter of a century before, the pivot on which all thisslander turned was the precise nature of the friendship between the Princess and Lord Bute—a matter which surely concerned no one except themselves. Her arch-maligner, Horace Walpole, put the worst construction on this intimacy, and her political enemies endorsed his verdict. But Walpole hated the Princess-Dowager, because she refused to recognise in any way the marriage of his favourite niece to the Duke of Gloucester. The evil construction placed upon the friendship, as Lord Chesterfield said, “was founded on mere conjectures”. The whole life of the Princess-Dowager—the decorum of her conduct, the order and regularity of her household, her strict principles, the reticence of her character, and the coldness of her temperament—give it the lie. The eighteenth century, with its gross pleasures and low ideals, could not understand a disinterested friendship between a man and a woman, and, not understanding, condemned it. Yet there is much to show that this friendship was of that high order of affection which eliminates all thought of self or sex. It lasted for long years; it was marked by complete trust and confidence on the woman’s side, by loyalty and chivalry on the man’s. It never wavered through good report or ill; opposition and insult served to strengthen it, and it was broken only by death. There must have been something very noble in the woman who won such allegiance, and in the man who rendered it.

The news from Copenhagen created an extraordinary sensation in London. The ladies were whispering all sorts of naughtiness behind their fans concerning Queen Matilda and Struensee; the gossips in the coffee-houses were retailing fresh bits of scandal every day, and the politicians were betting on the possibilities of a war with Denmark. Public opinion at first seemed to be on the side of the young Queen. Some of the papers already demanded that a fleet should be sent to Denmark to vindicate the honour of the British Princess, who was generally spoken of as the “Royal Innocent”. The following may be quoted as a specimen of these effusions:—

“Recollect the manner in which that lady [Queen Matilda] was educated, and that, when delivered into the hands of her husband she was in the full possession of every virtue. All the graces were in her; she knew nothing but what was good. Can it then, with any degree of reason, be concluded that in so short a time the lady could forget every virtuous precept, and abandon herself to infamy? My dear countrymen, it cannot be, and until we have a certainty of guilt, believe it not, though an angel from Copenhagen should affirm it.”[39]

[39]General Evening Post, February 8, 1772.

The popular curiosity was heightened by the profound secrecy observed by the court and government. So far, nothing definite was known; the King and his ministers were naturally silent. The illness and death of his mother had hindered the King from taking action on Keith’s despatch, andwhile he was hesitating, another communication arrived from Copenhagen. This was a letter addressed by that wily diplomatist, Osten, to the Danish envoy in London, Baron Dieden, with instructions that he was to communicate its contents to Lord Suffolk at once. This letter threw a different complexion on the affair to that of Keith’s despatch. It assumed the guilt of the Queen, and urged that the King of Denmark was only within his rights in removing his consort from the contaminating presence of her favourite. The matter, Osten urged, was of so delicate and personal a nature that it could not be treated properly by ministers or envoys. The King of Denmark, when he had recovered from the affliction into which the knowledge of his consort’s infidelity had plunged him, would write to his brother of England with his own hand, and he trusted that his Britannic Majesty would suspend judgment until then. A few days later Dieden received another despatch from Osten, enclosing a sealed letter from Christian VII. to George III., and the Danish envoy delivered this letter into the King’s hands at once. This letter, which no doubt Christian had been induced to copy by the dictation of the Queen-Dowager and her advisers, took the same line as Osten’s despatch, though of course it was written in a more intimate and confidential tone, not only as between brother monarchs, but near relatives.

George III., who was already prejudiced against his sister by the way in which she had slightedhis advice, and ignored his remonstrances, was not averse from dealing with the difficulty in this way. Though he greatly disliked his cousin, the King of Denmark, and knew the insults and cruelties which had been heaped upon his unhappy sister, yet, as he was of a most moral and domestic nature, he could not find in them any justification for her conduct, and he regarded her offence, if proved, with horror. Osten’s representations were so plausible that the King, when he received Christian VII.’s letter, replied to it in no unyielding spirit; he reserved his judgment, but demanded that his sister should be treated fairly, and every possible respect and indulgence be shown to her. He would not go behind his envoy’s back, in the manner suggested by Osten, for he rightly judged that Keith, being on the spot, would be thoroughly informed of the situation. He therefore gave his letter to Suffolk to transmit to Keith, with instructions that he was to have a personal audience of the King forthwith, and to deliver it into his hands. At the same time Lord Suffolk wrote a despatch to Keith asking for fuller information, and conveying to him in a special manner his Sovereign’s approbation of his conduct.

Keith all this time had remained shut up in his house, in Copenhagen, awaiting instructions from England, and unable, until he received them, to do anything on behalf of the unhappy Queen. The answer to his despatch did not arrive for nearly a month. When at last it came, “in theshape of a sealed square packet, it was placed in Colonel Keith’s hands, and they trembled, and he shook all over as he cut the strings. The parcel flew open, and the Order of the Bath fell at his feet. The insignia had been enclosed by the King’s own hands, with a despatch commanding him to invest himself forthwith, and appear at the Danish court.”[40]What instructions the despatch contained will never be known; but that George III. entirely approved of the way in which his representative had acted is shown by a letter which Lord Suffolk wrote at the same time to Keith’s father:—

“I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of acquainting you with the eminent merit of your son, his Majesty’s minister at Copenhagen, and the honourable testimony his Majesty has been pleased to give of his approbation by conferring on him the Order of the Bath. The ability, spirit and dignity with which Sir Robert Keith has conducted himself in a very delicate and difficult position has induced his Majesty to accompany the honour he bestows with very particular marks of distinction."[41]

[40]Memoirs of Sir Robert Murray Keith.

[41]Lord Suffolk, secretary of state for foreign affairs, to R. Keith, Esq., February 28, 1772.

Fortified with these marks of his Sovereign’s approval, and armed with the King’s letter, Keith, for the first time for many weeks, emerged from his house, and proceeded to the Christiansborg Palace, where he demanded a private audience of the King of Denmark. The audience was promisedon the morrow, but when Keith again repaired to the palace, and was conducted to the ante-chamber of the King’s apartments, he was astonished at seeing, instead of the King, Osten and some of the newly appointed ministers, who informed him that, his Majesty not being well, they had been charged to receive the envoy’s communication, and convey it to the King. Keith replied with some indignation that his orders were to deliver his letter into the King’s own hands, and he did not understand why his Danish Majesty, after he had consented to give him audience, should refer him to his ministers. But the ministers only politely expressed their regret, and said they were acting under the King’s orders. The whole scene of course was planned by the Queen-Dowager, who had her own reasons for keeping the English envoy away from the King, as she was determined at all hazards that Matilda should be deposed and disgraced. Keith, who realised that there was something behind, and saw the futility of further remonstrance, reluctantly surrendered the letter; but he added that he should not fail to inform his Sovereign of the way in which he had been treated. He moreover said that his royal master’s letter was a private one to the King, but that he himself had authority to state to the ministers that, if the Queen of Denmark were not treated with all the respect due to her birth and rank, her royal brother of England would not fail to resent it in a manner that would make Denmark tremble. He then withdrew.

Keith must have written a very strongly worded despatch to Lord Suffolk, exposing the trickery of the Danish court, and probably hinting at the Queen’s danger, for though the despatches which passed between him and Suffolk at this time are missing, we know that they became graver and more serious in tone. The relations between the two countries seemed likely to be broken off, for the Danish envoy in England, Dieden, followed Keith’s example, and shut himself up in his house until he should receive instructions. When these instructions came, they could not have been satisfactory, for when the Danish envoy next appeared at court, George III. pointedly ignored him, which the minister resented by standing out of the circle, and laughing and talking with the Prussian minister, whose master also had a dispute with England at this time. Moreover, the Prussian minister had given offence to the King by talking too freely about the scandal at the Danish court. On one occasion he asked a court official with a sneer: “What has become of your Queen of Denmark?”—to which the Englishman made quick reply: “Apparently she is at Spandau with your Princess of Prussia”—a princess who had been divorced for adultery.

The secrecy which still reigned over everything concerning the King’s sister, and the dilatory nature of the negotiations, led to much unfavourable comment in England. The mystery of the Queen of Denmark continued to be the only topicof discussion, both in public and private. Notwithstanding all precautions, well-informed people formed a very shrewd idea of what had taken place at Copenhagen. For instance, on February 28, 1772, Mrs. Carter wrote to Mrs. Vesey: “I have very little intelligence to send you from Denmark, as there is a profound silence at St. James’s on this subject. You know that the unhappy young Queen is imprisoned in a castle dashed by the waves, where she is kept in very strict confinement. I am persuaded you would think it an alleviation of her misfortunes if I could tell you it is the very castle once haunted by Hamlet’s ghost, but of this I have no positive assurance, though, as it is at Elsinur, I think such an imagination as yours and mine may fairly enough make out the rest. In the letter that the King of Denmark wrote to ours, he only mentioned in general terms that the Queen had behaved in a manner which obliged him to imprison her, but that from regard to his Majesty her life should be safe.”[42]

[42]Mrs. Carter’sLetters, vol. iv.

The thought that the young and beautiful Queen—a British princess—was ill-treated and imprisoned, and possibly even in danger of her life, and her brother would not interpose on her behalf, created an extraordinary sensation, and the Opposition, thinking any stick good enough wherewith to belabour the King and his ministers, did not fail to turn the situation to account. It formed the subject of one of the most powerful letters of Junius, who madea terrific onslaught on both the King and the Prime Minister, Lord North, from which we take the following extracts:—

“My Lord,“I have waited with a degree of impatience natural to a man who wishes well to his country for your lordship’s ministerial interposition on behalf of an injured Princess of England, the Queen-Consort of Denmark.... An insignificant Northern Potentate is honoured by a matrimonial alliance with the King of England’s sister. A confused rumour prevails, that she has been false to his bed; the tale spreads; a particular man is pointed out as the object of her licentious affections. Our hopeful Ministry are, however, quite silent: despatches, indeed, are sent off to Copenhagen, but the contents of those despatches are so profound a secret, that with me it almost amounts to a question whether you [Lord North] yourself know anything of the matter.... In private life the honour of a sister is deemed an affair of infinite consequence to a brother. A man of sentiment is anxious to convince his friends and neighbours that the breath of slander hath traduced her virtue; and he seizes, with avidity, every extenuating circumstance that can contribute to extenuate her offence, or demonstrate her innocence beyond the possibility of cavil. Is our pious Monarch cast in a different mould from that of his people? Or is he taught to believe that the opinion of his subjects has no manner of relation to his own felicity? Areyou,my Lord, [North] quite devoid of feeling? Have you no warm blood that flows round your heart, that gives your frame a thrilling soft sensation, and makes your bosom glow with affections ornamental to man as a social creature? For shame, my Lord! However wrong you act, you must know better; you must be conscious that the people have a right to be informed of every transaction which concerns the welfare of the state. They are part of a mighty empire, which flourishes only as their happiness is promoted; they have a kind of claim in every person belonging to the royal lineage. How then can they possibly remain neuter, and see their Princess imprisoned by banditti and northern Vandals?... There is a barbarous ferocity which still clings to the inhabitants of the north, and renders their government subject to perpetual convulsions; but the Danes, I fancy, will be found the only people in our times who have dared to proceed to extremities that alarmed Europe, nay, dared to imprison an English princess without giving even the shadow of a public reason for their conduct.... The present Machiavelian Dowager Julia may send the young Queen’s soul to Heaven in a night, and through the shameless remissness of you, Lord North, as Prime Minister of this unhappy country, the public may remain ignorant of every circumstance relative to the murder. Be not, however, deceived: the blood of our Sovereign’s sister shall not be suffered to cry in vain for vengeance: itshallbe heard, itshallbe revenged, and, what is still more, it shallbesprinkle Lord North, and thus affix a stigma on his forehead, which shall make him wander, like another Cain, accursed through the world.”[43]

“My Lord,

“I have waited with a degree of impatience natural to a man who wishes well to his country for your lordship’s ministerial interposition on behalf of an injured Princess of England, the Queen-Consort of Denmark.... An insignificant Northern Potentate is honoured by a matrimonial alliance with the King of England’s sister. A confused rumour prevails, that she has been false to his bed; the tale spreads; a particular man is pointed out as the object of her licentious affections. Our hopeful Ministry are, however, quite silent: despatches, indeed, are sent off to Copenhagen, but the contents of those despatches are so profound a secret, that with me it almost amounts to a question whether you [Lord North] yourself know anything of the matter.... In private life the honour of a sister is deemed an affair of infinite consequence to a brother. A man of sentiment is anxious to convince his friends and neighbours that the breath of slander hath traduced her virtue; and he seizes, with avidity, every extenuating circumstance that can contribute to extenuate her offence, or demonstrate her innocence beyond the possibility of cavil. Is our pious Monarch cast in a different mould from that of his people? Or is he taught to believe that the opinion of his subjects has no manner of relation to his own felicity? Areyou,my Lord, [North] quite devoid of feeling? Have you no warm blood that flows round your heart, that gives your frame a thrilling soft sensation, and makes your bosom glow with affections ornamental to man as a social creature? For shame, my Lord! However wrong you act, you must know better; you must be conscious that the people have a right to be informed of every transaction which concerns the welfare of the state. They are part of a mighty empire, which flourishes only as their happiness is promoted; they have a kind of claim in every person belonging to the royal lineage. How then can they possibly remain neuter, and see their Princess imprisoned by banditti and northern Vandals?... There is a barbarous ferocity which still clings to the inhabitants of the north, and renders their government subject to perpetual convulsions; but the Danes, I fancy, will be found the only people in our times who have dared to proceed to extremities that alarmed Europe, nay, dared to imprison an English princess without giving even the shadow of a public reason for their conduct.... The present Machiavelian Dowager Julia may send the young Queen’s soul to Heaven in a night, and through the shameless remissness of you, Lord North, as Prime Minister of this unhappy country, the public may remain ignorant of every circumstance relative to the murder. Be not, however, deceived: the blood of our Sovereign’s sister shall not be suffered to cry in vain for vengeance: itshallbe heard, itshallbe revenged, and, what is still more, it shallbesprinkle Lord North, and thus affix a stigma on his forehead, which shall make him wander, like another Cain, accursed through the world.”[43]

[43]This letter, signed “Junius,” appeared in theGentleman’s Magazine, March 3, 1772.

This attack naturally called forth a counter-attack, and before long the guilt, or innocence, of the King’s sister was as hotly debated in the public press as in the clubs and coffee-houses. But neither the thunders of Junius, nor the shrill cries of those who took the opposite view, made any difference to Lord North, and the nature of the negotiations which were going on between England and Denmark remained as much a mystery as ever. When pressed in Parliament on the subject, the Prime Minister contented himself with answering, with his usual air of frankness, that, unless expressly ordered to do so by the House, he would not reveal so delicate a matter, and in this he was supported by the good sense of the House, which had no wish to see the disgrace of the King’s sister form a subject of debate within the walls of Parliament. Moreover, at this stage it was not a question which concerned ministers, but the King, and the blame for what followed must be laid not on their shoulders, but on his. George III. believed his sister guilty, and did not weigh sufficiently the extenuating circumstances, which, whether guilty or innocent, could be urged in her favour. He did not act at first with that firmness which the situation undoubtedly demanded. The Queen-Dowager of Denmark and her advisersbelieved the King of England to be luke-warm, and consequently proceeded against his unhappy sister with every circumstance of cruelty and malevolence. If even her brother would not defend her, Matilda was indeed abandoned to the vengeance of her enemies.

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

THE IMPRISONED QUEEN.

1772.

All this time the unfortunate Matilda remained at Kronborg, with no consolation except that she was permitted to retain the infant princess. She was still very closely guarded, but after Keith’s spirited protest, the rigours of her imprisonment were slightly abated. Some clothes and other necessaries were sent her from Copenhagen, and by way of keeping up the fiction that she was treated with the respect due to her birth and rank, her suite was increased, and two gentlemen of the bed-chamber and two maids-of-honour were sent to Kronborg. Their duties must have been light, for, confined as the Queen was to one small chamber, they could rarely have seen their mistress during the first months of her sojourn in the fortress. But their presence at Kronborg was a device of the Queen-Dowager to throw dust in the eyes of the English and other courts, for the misfortunes of Matilda were now the subject of conversation in every court in Europe. Moreover, the persons sent to Kronborg were all, as Juliana Maria well knew, personally disliked by the young Queen, and they wentrather in the capacity of spies than servants of her household. As it afterwards appeared at her trial, even the women who waited on the Queen were really spies, and her most casual expressions and trifling actions were distorted by these menials into evidence against her. Matilda was allowed no communication with the outer world, and she asked her maid, a woman named Arnsberg, what had become of Struensee. The woman told her he was imprisoned in the citadel. The Queen wept, and asked: “Is he in chains? Has he food to eat? Does he know that I am imprisoned here?” These questions, natural enough under the circumstances, were duly noted by the treacherous woman, and afterwards put in as evidence against the Queen at her trial.

When the first shock was over Matilda bore her imprisonment with fortitude. Her youth and strong constitution were in her favour, and she kept well, notwithstanding her deprivations. We find Keith writing a month after the Queen’s imprisonment: “The Queen of Denmark enjoys perfect health in Hamlet’s castle. I wish the punishment of her cruellestenemies, the late Minister, Struensee, and his associates, were over, that the heat of party might subside, and her Majesty’s situation be altered for the better.”[44]

[44]Keith’s letter to his father, February 14, 1772.

THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.From an Engraving.

THE COURTYARD OF THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.From an Engraving.

In her lonely prison Matilda had ample time for reflection. She reviewed the events of the past few months and her present situation, and she saw,now that it was too late, that the advice and remonstrances of her mother and brother had been given in all good faith. She saw, too, that any hope of deliverance must come from England, and that she could expect nothing from her imbecile husband and the relentless Queen-Dowager and her adherents. For weeks she was kept uncertain of the fate that awaited her; her attendants either would not, or could not, give her any information on this head, and she lived in constant dread of assassination. In her anxiety and alarm she is said to have written impassioned appeals from Kronborg to Keith in Copenhagen, and to her brother George III., throwing herself on the protection of Great Britain.[45]Without accepting the genuineness of any particular letter, it is certain that the Queen managed to enter into communication with Keith, though he was not permitted to see her. Keith had great difficulty with Osten, who spoke fair to his face but granted nothing.

[45]These letters were first published in the English papers early in April, 1772, and the fact that they so appeared is sufficient to cast grave doubts upon their genuineness. It is most unlikely that such letters would have been allowed to pass out of safe keeping. On the contrary, the greatest care was taken that every letter and despatch to England bearing on the Queen’s case should be kept secret, and they were afterwards destroyed by order of George III.

In the middle of February the news of the death of the Princess-Dowager of Wales reached Copenhagen, and Keith made some attempt to break the distressing intelligence to the imprisoned Queen by word of mouth. But here, too,he was foiled by Osten, who would only suffer the intelligence to be communicated to the Queen in a formal letter. Matilda was greatly distressed at her mother’s death, for she knew that she had lost not only her mother, but also a protectress, whose influence with the King of England was all-powerful. To her grief must also have been added a sense of remorse, for she had parted with her mother in anger; she knew, too, how the Princess’s proud spirit must have been abased by the news of her misfortunes, and this probably hastened her death. Yet, even so, Matilda could not forget the man who had brought her to this miserable pass; she hardly thought of herself; all her anxiety was for him and his safety. That he had brought her to shame and ruin made no difference to her love; all her prayers and all her thoughts were of him. Her love was now but a memory, but it was one she cherished dearer than life itself.

Probably it was the knowledge of this impenitent condition (for everything Matilda said or did was reported through spies) that made Juliana Maria provide spiritual consolation for the hapless captive. The Queen-Dowager was a fanatical woman, who had no charity but much bigotry; it is possible, therefore, that she may have been sincere in her wish to “convert” Matilda. At least, that is the only excuse that can be offered for the insults which were heaped upon the unfortunate young Queen in the name of religion. Acting on the instructions of the Queen-Dowager, the commandant of Kronborg every Sunday morning compelled his royal prisoner to come out of her small room, where at least she had the refuge of seclusion, and marched her over the rough stones of the courtyard to the chapel of the fortress.[46]There, seated in a pew with a guard on either side, and the ladies and gentlemen of her household (who put in an appearance on these occasions) behind her, the poor Queen was thundered at ferociously by the garrison preacher, one Chemnitz, who, also acting under instructions, preached at her for an hour together, and hurled at her head the fiercest insults from the safe shelter of his pulpit. For instance, on one Sunday he chose as his text: “And the people shall take them, and bring them to their place: and the house of Israel shall possess them in the land of the Lord for servants and handmaids: and they shall take them captives, whose captives they were; and they shall rule over their oppressors” (Isa. xiv. 2). On alternate Sundays another preacher, named Hansen, took up the parable, and was even more violent than his colleague. On one occasion he hurled at the Queen the following text: “Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments like himthat treadeth in the winefat?” (Isa. lxiii. 2), and then proceeded to draw a parallel between the hapless prisoner and the scarlet woman. What added to the indignity of these cruel insults was the fact that they were addressed to the Queen in the presence of the other prisoners, many of them common criminals, and in the face of the rough soldiers of the fortress. But the exhortations of these Boanerges fell on deaf ears, so far as the Queen was concerned. It was noticed that she went very white, but she otherwise showed no sign of emotion. She left the chapel as she had entered it, with her head held haughtily erect, and a dignified air. Though naturally the most kind-hearted and unassuming of women, this royal daughter of England could summon all her dignity to her aid when she chose, and look every inch a queen. It was impossible to humiliate Matilda; nor were these the methods to win her from the error of her ways. When the preachers sought to gain admittance to her cell, she absolutely refused to see them, and showed so much determination that they dared not force their way into her presence. She might be dragged to the chapel and publicly pilloried, that she suffered under protest; but the men who had so insulted her she positively declined to receive, and all exhortations and threats were unavailing. But though the insults of the preachers failed to shake Matilda’s composure, her enemies, of whom Juliana Maria was the chief, had at last obtained a document by which they hoped to humble her proud head to the dust.

[46]The chapel is a handsome building, with a vaulted stone roof, and a gallery running round it. The walls are elaborately painted, and pulpit and stalls adorned with wood-carving by German masters. The chapel was restored in 1843, but, except for the pews, it presents much the same appearance as it did in Matilda’s day. It is now used as a garrison chapel, for Kronborg is no longer a prison.

By the third week of February the commissioners appointed to collect evidence against the state prisoners at Copenhagen had concluded their investigations, and were ready to examine the two principal offenders, preliminary to sending them to trial. Struensee was taken first. He had now been in close confinement five weeks; the heavy irons, the rough treatment and the mental anxiety had told upon his health, already failing before he went to prison. It was a feeble, broken man, very different to the arrogant minister of former days, who was dragged forth from his dungeon to be interrogated before the Commission on February 20. Extraordinary precautions were taken to guard the prisoner. The examination took place within the walls of the citadel, though in another part of the fortress—the house of the commandant. The two gates of the citadel were closed the whole day, and in the city the garrison and burgher guard were patrolled in readiness for any outbreak. At ten o’clock Struensee was taken across the yard of the citadel in the commandant’s coach, under the guard of an officer and six men, to the hall of examination. As the morning was very cold he was permitted to wear his fur coat, and before he was brought into the room where the Commission was sitting, his fetters were taken off. He trembled violently while his chains were being removed, but this may have been due to physical causes, for he had worn them day and night for five weeks, and they were very heavy. He could scarcely stand, sohe was allowed to sit in an armchair when he confronted his enemies.

Notwithstanding his weak condition, Struensee astonished the commissioners by his calmness, and the collected way in which he answered their questions. He declared that all the orders he had given to the military during the last weeks of his administration were precautions to ensure the public safety, and he scouted the idea of his alleged plot against the person and authority of the King, of which, indeed, no vestige of proof existed. The first day his examination lasted nearly eight hours, from ten o’clock in the morning until two, and again from half-past four in the afternoon until seven o’clock in the evening. At the close Struensee was again put in irons, and conducted back to his dungeon.

The next morning he was brought forth again, and examined from ten o’clock until two. At none of these sittings did the prisoner inculpate himself in the slightest degree. At the third examination he was closely questioned with regard to his intimacy with the Queen, but he made no confession, and, on the contrary, declared that his relations with her were innocent. It is said that one of the commission, Councillor Braem, having spoken roughly to the prisoner because he would not admit his guilt, Struensee calmly told him to imitate his tranquillity, and added that the affair surely concerned him more than anybody else. Incensed by this calmness Braem threatened him with torture, and said that instruments were ready in the next room whichwould tear the truth from the most obstinate criminal. Struensee replied that he had already spoken the truth, and he did not fear torture.[47]The third examination closed at half-past two on the second day without any admissions having been extorted from the prisoner. In the interval the commissioners conferred together, and determined to change their tactics.

[47]According to Reverdil, it is doubtful whether Struensee was threatened with torture, or, if he were, Braem exceeded his functions. In any case, the threat was an idle one, for the instruments were not prepared.

So far they had told Struensee nothing of what had happened to Queen Matilda, but thought to entrap him by leaving him in complete ignorance of the details of the palace revolution. At a loss to explain Struensee’s calmness, they now shrewdly guessed that he was counting on the protection of the young Queen. It was remembered that he had often boasted, in the hour of his prosperity, that no harm could come to him, for the Queen was absolutely identified with all his measures, and to attack him would be to attack her too; she was his shield against his enemies. He never dreamed that they would dare to attack her, for she had absolute ascendency over the King, and moreover was the sister of a powerful reigning monarch, who would assuredly defend her from peril, or at least would use all his influence to prevent a scandal for the honour of his house. When, therefore, the prisoner was again summoned before his examiners, they told him without moreado that, if he were trusting to the protection of the Queen, he was trusting to a broken reed: the Queen herself was arrested and imprisoned, and would shortly be put upon her trial, with the consent of the King of England, who, equally with his Danish Majesty, viewed with abhorrence the guilty connection between her and Struensee. He might therefore as well make a clean breast of it, for everything would assuredly become known.

The effect produced on the prisoner’s shattered nerves by this revelation was all that his enemies hoped; Struensee was completely overcome, and broke down at once. So confidently had he counted on the Queen’s protection that, now he learned she was in the same plight as himself, all his firmness forsook him; he burst into tears and lamentations, and begged to be allowed to retire to regain his composure. But the commissioners were careful not to allow this opportunity to pass; they pressed home their advantage with renewed questions and threats, even holding out hopes of mercy if he would tell the truth. Before long Struensee, instead of “lying like a gentleman,” confessed without reserve that his familiarity with the Queen had been carried to the furthest limit. The commissioners did not conceal their exultation; this base confession did more than anything else to brand the man before them as a profligate adventurer.

Some extenuation might be urged for Struensee if in a moment of terror and confusion he had been taken off his guard and blurted out the truth, orif on consideration he had recalled his words; but his subsequent conduct leaves no room for this extenuation. There is no doubt that he thought, by dragging the Queen (now that she could no longer protect him) into the mud with himself, he would save his shameful life. He probably argued that a public trial would be avoided for the honour of the royal houses of Denmark and England, the affair would be hushed up, and he would be allowed to escape with banishment. It is more than probable that his crafty examiners held out this inducement for the wretched man to confess everything. Struensee needed little encouragement, for, having once embarked upon his story, he seemed to take a positive pleasure in telling the most unnecessary details. He evidently thought that the more deeply he incriminated the Queen, the better chance he would have of saving his life. Not content with this, the pitiful coward threw all the blame upon her—an inexperienced woman fourteen years younger than himself, who loved him to her destruction, who had showered benefits upon him, and to whom he owed everything. It was the old story, “The woman tempted me.”

There is no need to quote in full here the confession of this wretched man. He not only made it once but repeated it with ample details four days later; these details were marked by a total absence of reticence, and even decency. According to this confession—and it must be remembered that the man who made it was a liar as well as a coward—the intimate relations between the Queen andhimself began in the spring of 1770, not long before the tour in Holstein. The Queen first gave him marks of her affection at a masquerade; he strove to check the intimacy, and afterwards to break it off, but without success. He even quoted the rudeness and lack of respect with which it was notorious he had frequently treated the Queen to prove the truth of his statement. He declared that he had been obliged to continue the intimacy lest he should lose his mistress’s confidence—that he was thus “placed in the alternative of ruining his fortunes, or succumbing to the will of the Queen”. This shameful confession Struensee signed.

Having now got all they wanted, the commissioners dismissed Struensee to his dungeon until they should have further need of him. The traitor retired well pleased with himself. Hope sprang once more within his breast, and this was fostered by several indulgences now shown to him. He was allowed to be shaved, his diet was made fuller, and he was given wine. His valet was permitted to attend him under strict order of silence. The man, who was devoted to his master, brought with him the silver toilet bowls and perfume bottles—they were suffered to remain in the cell, mute testimony of the change from effeminate luxury to sordid misery.

Armed with Struensee’s confession, the Government at last felt equal to dealing with the imprisoned Queen. Hitherto they had been in difficulty how to proceed. From the beginning of her incarceration the Queen, on being told whereof she was accused,had passionately demanded a fair trial. She was now informed that she would receive it.

On March 8, 1772, a fortnight after Struensee’s confession, a special commission, acting in the King’s name (though he was probably ignorant of the proceedings, or at any rate indifferent to them), arrived at Kronborg—nominally for the purpose of examining the Queen, in reality to extort from her by fair means or foul a confirmation of the confession made by Struensee. It was imperative that her enemies should obtain it, for it would justify the Queen’s treatment to the English Government, which, owing to the exertions of Keith, was becoming unpleasantly troublesome in its demands. It is said that Keith had contrived by some means to secretly warn the imprisoned Queen of the impending arrival of the commissioners, so that she should not be taken by surprise. He advised her that she should receive them with calmness, and treat them as subjects who had come to pay court to their Queen; when they began to interrogate her, she would do well to say that she had no answer to give them; she could not recognise their right to question her, as she recognised no superior, or judge, but her lord the King, to whom alone she would account for her actions. But unfortunately Keith knew nothing of Struensee’s confession.

The commission consisted of two members of the Council of State—Count Otto Thott and Councillor Schack-Rathlou[48]—who were well known to theQueen in the days of her prosperity, and two members of the committee of investigation who had examined Struensee, Baron Juell-Wind, a judge of the Supreme Court, and Stampe, the Attorney-General. These four men, it is scarcely necessary to say, had been opponents of the Struensee administration. As the Queen’s room was too small to admit all these men, some of whom could hardly have stood upright in it, the commission sat in the large hall adjoining, generally used for the guard—a room with a painted ceiling and pictures of Danish worthies around the walls. There, when they had arranged themselves at a table, with pens, ink and paper, her Majesty was informed that they awaited her pleasure.

[48]Joachim Otto Schack-Rathlou, Minister of State (1728-1800).

The Queen did not respond immediately to the summons, but first robed herself with care. Presently she entered the room, followed by her women. She acknowledged with a bow the salutations of the commissioners, who rose at her entrance, and then, passing to a chair, waved to them to be seated. She was very pale, but otherwise her bearing showed majestic dignity and composure. The commissioners, who had expected to find her broken down by weeks of solitary suffering and suspense, were astonished at this reception, and for a moment knew not how to proceed. Schack-Rathlou, who owed the Queen a grudge for the part which he unjustly believed she had played against him, undertook to begin the examination. For some time this proved fruitless. The commissioners found the Queenarmed at all points: she admitted nothing, denied their right to question her, and, when she answered under protest, her replies were of the briefest. Though she was examined and cross-examined by the four men, two of whom were eminent lawyers, she showed neither confusion nor hesitation. It was evident that the Queen could not be made to incriminate herself by fair means; therefore the commissioners resolved to resort to foul ones. They could not threaten her with torture, so they determined to surprise her in the same way as Struensee had been surprised, and throw her off her guard.

Schack-Rathlou, who acted as president of the commission, therefore told the Queen that, as she would admit nothing of her own free will, it was their duty to inform her that they held damning evidence of her guilt. Thereupon he produced Struensee’s confession, and read it aloud. For the first time during the examination the Queen showed signs of emotion; she flushed either with shame or anger at the scandalous accusations, but she listened without interruption to the end. Then, when Schack-Rathlou put the formal question to her, she denied everything with passionate indignation, and declared that it was impossible that Struensee could have made such shameful statements, the document must be a forgery. For answer, Schack-Rathlou held the paper up before the Queen, that she might read with her own eyes Struensee’s signature. The Queen took a hasty glance, and recognising thewell-known characters, she uttered an exclamation of horror, fell back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands. The commissioners had trapped their victim at last.

Presently Schack-Rathlou leaned across the table, and said significantly: “If Struensee’s confession be not true, Madam, then there is no death cruel enough for this monster, who has dared to compromise you to such an extent.” At these words Matilda let her hands fall from her face, and gazed with startled eyes at her merciless accusers. All her self-possession had fled, and for the moment she was utterly unnerved. She understood the covert menace only too well: by thus maligning the reigning Queen he was liable to death by the law of Denmark, and death the most barbarous and degrading. She still loved this man; even his shameful betrayal of her had not weakened her love. It had probably been extorted from him by trickery and torture; in any case, she refused to judge him. He had brought all the happiness she had known into her life; if he now brought shame and ruin, she would forgive him for the sake of the happiness that was gone. She had sworn never to abandon him, and should she now, because of one false step, throw him to the wolves? No! She would save him, even though it cost her her honour and her crown.

These thoughts flashed through the Queen’s brain as she confronted her judges. Then she gripped with her hands the arms of her chair, and,leaning forward, said: “But if I were to avow these words of Struensee to be true, could I save his life by doing so?” The lie was ready: “Surely, Madam,” said Schack-Rathlou, “that would be adduced in his favour, and would quite alter the situation. You have only to sign this.” So saying, he spread out a document already prepared, which the commissioners had brought with them. In it the Queen was made to confirm Struensee’s confession. The unhappy Queen glanced at it hurriedly. “Ah, well! I will sign,” she said. She seized the pen which Schack-Rathlou thrust into her hand, and wrote her signature to a document that would ruin her for ever. She had hardly done so when she fell back fainting.[49]

[49]According toFalckenskjold’s Memoirsand theAuthentische Aufklärungen, the Queen nearly fainted after writing the first two syllables—“Caro—,” but Schack-Rathlou seized her hand, and, guiding it, added the remainder, “—line Matilda”. This story bears a remarkable resemblance to one related of Matilda’s ancestress, Mary Queen of Scots, when forced to sign her abdication in the castle of Lochleven. Unfortunately for the truth of it, the document which the Queen signed is still preserved in the royal archives of Copenhagen, and the signature shows no sign of a break.

When the Queen recovered, the commissioners had gone, and with them the fatal document; only the women who spied upon her remained, and the guards who had come to conduct her back to her chamber. When Matilda reached it, she threw herself on her pallet, and, clasping the little Princess in her arms, gave way to unavailing lamentation. It is stated by some authorities that the threat of taking her child away from her was also used by the commissioners to extort her signature, and the promise was made that, if she avowed her guilt, the child would remain. This promise, if given, like all others, was subsequently falsified; but at the time it must have carried with it every appearance of probability, for the Queen, by admitting her guilt, also cast a slur upon the legitimacy of her child. Now that it was too late, she regretted the precipitation with which she had signed the paper. Her enemies’ eagerness to induce her to sign showed her clearly how she had erred: she ought to have demanded time for reflection, or insisted on adequate guarantees. She had signed away her crown, her honour, her children, perhaps her life, and it might be all in vain.

The commissioners, who had succeeded almost beyond their hopes, hastened back to Copenhagen to lay before the Queen-Dowager the crowning evidence of Matilda’s guilt. Juliana Maria was overjoyed: her enemy was delivered into her hands; nay, she had delivered herself. In this paper she found a full justification for all that she had done, and a complete answer to the remonstrances of the English envoy and his master. Keith, it is said, at first refused to believe the evidence of his eyes, and then fell back on the argument that the Queen’s signature had been wrung from her either by force or fraud. He realised that she had committed an irretrievable mistake. For the Queen-consort to be unfaithful to her husband’s bed was, by the law of Denmark, high treason, and as such punishable withdeath. Questions of high treason were, as a rule, solved by the King alone; theLex Regiaexpressly prohibited the judges from trying such matters. But in this case the King could not be trusted; he probably had no wish to divorce his Queen, whether she were guilty or not guilty—much less to punish her with imprisonment or death; he regarded offences against morality with a lenient eye, and he had positively forced his unhappy consort into temptation. So he was not consulted.

The Queen-Dowager took counsel with her legal advisers, with the result that an old statute was raked up (Section 3 of the Code of Christian V.), and a special commission, consisting of no less than thirty-five members, who formed a supreme court, was appointed to try the case of the King against the Queen. The court was composed of representatives of every class: five clergy, the Bishop of Zealand and four clerical assessors; four members of the Council of State, Counts Thott, Osten, Councillor Schack-Rathlou and Admiral Rommeling; the members of the commission who had examined Struensee; the judges of the Supreme Court not members of the commission; two officers of the army; two of the navy; several councillors of state; and one representative of the civic authority. The court was thus composed of some of the most eminent men in Denmark, and representative of both the church and state. Some of them were creatures of the Queen-Dowager, and pledged to carry out herwishes, many were upright and honourable men, but all were hostile to the Struensee administration, which had been carried on in the name of the Queen.

The English envoy offered no protest to this trial, though he must have known that the judges were men prejudiced against the Queen, and the sentence of divorce was already virtually determined upon. But the blame for this inaction does not rest with Keith; he had received no instructions from the King of England, to whom Matilda’s confession had been communicated with the least possible delay by the Danish Government. George III. held that, primarily, the question was one between husband and wife, and if his sister had forgotten her duty as a wife and a queen, her husband was justified in putting her away. Hence he offered no objection to the divorce proceedings which followed, though they were conducted from first to last with the utmost unfairness. True, he entered a plea for a fair trial, but he must have known that, surrounded as his sister was with enemies, a fair trial was impossible. If George III. had entered a vigorous protest at this juncture, the trial would never have been allowed to go forward, and a painful scandal, discreditable alike to the royal houses of England and Denmark, might have been hushed up. Moreover, decided action at the outset would have rendered unnecessary the crisis which brought England and Denmark to the verge of war a few months later.

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