CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER X.THE EXECUTIONS.1772.The prisoners were told of their fate on Friday, April 25, immediately after the sentences were pronounced. Uhldahl and Bang went to the citadel to inform their respective clients of the judgment against them, and to hand them a copy of their sentences.Uhldahl, who had undertaken the defence of Struensee with a very ill-grace, entered the condemned man’s cell and curtly said: “Good Count, I bring you bad news,” and then, without a word of sympathy, he handed Struensee a copy of his sentence. Struensee, who had shown craven fear at intervals during his imprisonment, now read the document which condemned him to a barbarous and ignominious death with an unmoved air, and when he had perused it to the end, he handed it without a word to Dr. Münter, who was with him at the time. Apparently only the sentence, and not the judgment, was handed to the condemned man, for Struensee asked his advocate if he were condemned on all the counts in his indictment, to which Uhldahl answered in the affirmative. “Even on thatconcerning the education of the Crown Prince?” asked Struensee. “Even on that,” replied Uhldahl briefly. Struensee said that, if he had had any children of his own, he should have reared them in exactly the same way—to which Uhldahl made no reply. “And what is Brandt’s fate?” asked Struensee. “His sentence is exactly the same as yours.” “But could his counsel do nothing to save him?” demanded Struensee. “He said everything that could be urged in his favour; but Count Brandt had too much laid to his charge.” The thought of Brandt’s fate moved Struensee far more than his own; but he soon regained his composure, and resolved to petition the King, who had not yet signed the sentences, for mercy.When Struensee and Münter were left alone, the latter lamented the barbarities of the sentence, but Struensee assured him they mattered little. He still held the same ground—that is to say, he admitted his guilt so far as the Queen was concerned, but maintained his innocence of all the other charges against him, even the one of having forged the document that gave him money from the Treasury, which must have been true. But he admitted that his intrigue with the Queen made him liable to the extremest punishment of the law. “My judges,” he said, “had the law before them, and therefore they could not decide otherwise. I confess my crime is great; I have violated the majesty of the King.” Even now, when the sentence had robbed him ofalmost his last hope, and he was face to face with a hideous death, this wretched man had no word of remorse or grief for the ruin, misery and suffering he had brought upon the Queen. Uhldahl had given him Matilda’s pathetic message—that she forgave him everything he had said and done against her, even the shameful confession by which he had striven to shield himself at her expense. Struensee received the message without emotion, and even with sullen indifference; he was so much engrossed with his own fate that he had no thought to spare for the Queen. Perhaps he thought it was a device of the Evil One to lure him away from the contemplation of his soul. However much we may suspect the motives which first led Struensee to his conversion, there is no doubt that he was sincerely zealous for his spiritual well-being at the last. The long months of solitary confinement, the ceaseless exhortations and prayers of the fervent Münter, the near approach of death, perhaps, too, some echo from the pious home in which he had been reared, combined to detach Struensee’s thoughts from the world and to concentrate them on his soul. He had reached that point which counts earth’s sufferings as little in comparison with the problems of eternity. The worldling, who had once thought of nothing but his material advancement, was now equally ambitious for his spiritual welfare. In his pursuit of the one he was as selfish and as absorbed as he had been in pursuit of the other. The motive had changed, but the man was the same.STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON.STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON.From a Contemporary Print.Brandt had also received a copy of his sentence from Bang, and, like Struensee, immediately petitioned the King for mercy. It was generally expected that the royal clemency would be exercised in his case. The judges who tried the case had no option but to pass sentence, but some of them had hoped that the extreme penalty of the law would be mitigated. It was the King’s business to sign the sentences, but the question of whether he should, or should not, confirm them was first discussed by the Council of State before the documents were sent to the King to sign. In the council itself there were voices on the side of mercy, especially for Brandt, but Rantzau and Osten, the two members of the council who had been familiar friends of the condemned men, absolutely opposed the idea of any mercy being shown to either of them. Yet there is no doubt that, if strict justice had been meted out, Rantzau, at least, would have been lying under the same sentence. Perhaps it was this thought which made him of all the council the most implacable and unyielding: dead men could tell no tales, and until both Struensee and Brandt were dead, Rantzau would not feel safe. So the council, at any rate by a majority, reported that the King should confirm the sentences.All effort was not at an end, for Guldberg, the most influential of the judges who had condemned Struensee and Brandt, had an audience of Juliana Maria, and implored a mitigation of the punishment, or at least that Brandt’s life should be spared. ButJuliana Maria showed herself inflexible, and the vindictive side of her nature asserted itself without disguise. Brandt as well as Struensee had inflicted many slights upon her and her son; therefore he, too, should die. Guldberg, who had supposed his influence over the Queen-Dowager was all-powerful, as indeed it was on most points, was unable to move her in this, and might as well have pleaded to a rock. After a long and violent altercation he withdrew worsted, and until the executions were over he remained in strict retirement. Whatever may be said of the others, Guldberg, at any rate, washed his hands of the blood of the condemned men.It may be doubted, however, if Juliana Maria, even if she had been otherwise minded, could have saved Brandt’s life, for the King, though easily led in many respects, showed remarkable obstinacy in this. Some of his ministers suggested to him that it would be generous of him to pardon Brandt, as the chief offence was one against his royal person; but the King at once showed the greatest repugnance to pardon. He hated Brandt much more than he hated Struensee; he had never forgiven him the assault, and the mere mention of his name was sufficient to fill him with rage. He positively declared that he would not sign either of the sentences unless he signed both, and, as no one wished Struensee to escape, the ministers gave way. The King signed both sentences, and displayed a savage joy when he heard that they were to be carried outwithout delay. In the evening he dined in public and went in state to the Italian opera.On Friday, April 25, the prisoners were told of their sentences, and on Saturday they were informed that the King had signed them, and all hope was over. Their execution would take place on the Monday following. Both prisoners received the news with composure, though Struensee was much affected when he heard that every effort to save Brandt’s life had failed, and commented indignantly on the injustice of his sentence. Münter, who brought him the fatal news, greatly lamented that the barbarous and needless cruelties of the sentence had not been abolished. Struensee exhorted his friend and confessor to maintain his firmness, and said he would dispense with his services at the last if the sight would be too much for him. But to this Münter would not listen. “I shall suffer much more,” said Struensee, “if I see that you suffer too. Therefore, speak to me on the scaffold as little as you can. I will summon all my strength; I will turn my thoughts to Jesus, my Deliverer; I will not take formal leave of you, for that would unman me.” As to the brutal indignities of his death, he said: “I am far above all this, and I hope my friend Brandt feels the same. Here in this world, since I am on the point of leaving it, neither honour nor infamy can affect me any more. It is equally the same to me, after death, whether my body rots under the ground or in the open air—whether it serves to feed the worms or the birds. God will know how to preserve those particles whichon the resurrection day will constitute my glorified body. It is not my all which is to be exposed upon the wheel. Thank God, I am now well assured that this flesh is not my whole being.”Struensee wrote three letters—one to Brandt’s brother, in which he bewailed having been the innocent cause of bringing “our dear Enevold to this pass”; another to Rantzau, saying he forgave him as he hoped to be forgiven, and exhorting him to turn to religion; and the third to Madam von Berkentin of Pinneberg, the lady who had first recommended Struensee to influential personages, and thus unwittingly had laid the foundation of his future greatness and of his future ruin. To his brother, Justice Struensee, who was also a prisoner, the condemned man sent a message of farewell through Münter. But to the Queen he sent neither word of remembrance nor prayer for forgiveness for the wrong he had done her. In this respect, at least, it would seem Struensee’s conversion was not complete.When Hee brought Brandt the news that his execution was determined upon, he displayed a firmness and dignity hardly to be expected from one of his volatile temperament. He indulged in no pious aspirations after the manner of Struensee, but said quietly that he submitted to the will of God.For the next two days Copenhagen was filled with subdued excitement. On Sunday, the day before the execution, the places of public resort were closed, but the citizens gathered together in little groups at the corners of the streets, and spoke inhushed accents of the tragedy of to-morrow. Meanwhile, the Government was taking every step to hurry forward the executions and preserve public order. Soldiers were already guarding a large field outside the eastern gate of Copenhagen, where a scaffold, eight yards long, eight yards broad and twenty-seven feet high, was being erected. Other soldiers were posted on the gallows-hill a little distance to the west, where two poles were planted, and four wheels tied to posts. The Government had some difficulty in finding carpenters to build the scaffold, as the men had a superstition about it; many of them refused, and were at last coerced by threats. No wheelwright would supply the wheels on which the remains of the wretched men were to be exposed, so at last they were taken from old carriages in the royal stables. Though the work was pressed forward with all speed, the scaffold was only completed a few hours before the execution, which was arranged to take place early in the morning of Monday, April 28.All the night before crowds of people were moving towards the eastern gate, and at the first break of dawn large bodies of troops marched to the place of execution, and were drawn up in a large square around the scaffold. Others formed a guard along the route from the citadel, and everywhere the posts were doubled. When all preparations were complete, the eastern gate of the city was thrown open, and huge crowds surged towards the fatal field, or pressed against the soldiers who guarded theroute along which the condemned men were to journey from the citadel to the scaffold. Everywhere was a sea of countless heads. Upwards of thirty thousand persons, including women and little children, were gathered around the scaffold alone—some animated by a lust for blood and vengeance, but most of them by that morbid curiosity and love of the horrible common to all mobs in all ages of the world.At a very early hour the two clergymen went to the condemned men to comfort and attend them in their last moments. When Münter entered Struensee’s cell, he found him reading Schegel’sSermons on the Passion of Christ. The unhappy man was already dressed. His jailors had given him, as if in mockery, the clothes he had worn at the masquerade ball the night of his arrest, and in which he had been hurried to prison—a blue cut-velvet coat and pink silk breeches. For the first time for many months his chains were taken off. Struensee greeted Münter calmly, and together they conversed on religious matters until the cell door opened and the dread summons came.Dean Hee found Brandt brave and even cheerful. He, too, had been unchained from the wall, and was enjoying his brief spell of comparative freedom by walking up and down the room. Brandt, also, was vested in the clothes he had brought with him to the citadel—a green court dress richly embroidered with gold. He told Hee that he was not afraid to die, and seemed only anxious that the ordeal should be over. He asked him if he had seen any one executedbefore, and how far he ought to bare his neck and arm to the headsman’s axe. Presently the summons came for him too.Both the condemned men were marched out to the large hall of the citadel, where they were again fettered by a chain attached to their left hand and right foot. As the morning was cold, they were allowed to wear their fur pelisses. In this attire they entered the coaches drawn up in the courtyard of the citadel. Brandt occupied the first coach, Struensee the second. On one side of each of the prisoners sat an officer with a drawn sword, on the other the clergyman; opposite them were placed two sergeants. The two coaches were guarded by two hundred infantry soldiers with fixed bayonets, and an equal number of dragoons with drawn sabres. In a third coach were seated the Fiscal-General, Wivet, and the King’s bailiff, and facing them was the deputy-bailiff, holding the two tin shields on which the arms of the Counts were painted, which were to be broken in the sight of the people.At half-past eight the bell began to toll from the tower of the citadel. The gates were thrown open, and the melancholy procession emerged, and began its slow progress to the place of execution. Though the streets were thronged, and every window, balcony and housetop was filled with spectators, the condemned men passed along their last journey in silence—a silence only broken by the tramp of the soldiers’ and horses’ feet. The morning was dull and cold, and a slight mist hung over the Sound. Whenthe procession reached its destination, the Fiscal-General and the King’s bailiff and his deputy-bailiff mounted the scaffold, where the executioner, masked, and two stalwart assistants, also masked, awaited their victims, surrounded by the dread emblems of their hideous office. The large scaffold, which was twenty-seven feet in height, rose far above the heads of the soldiers who guarded it and the vast crowd beyond. All could see what took place there, even from a far distance, for this platform and the figures upon it were clearly silhouetted against the morning sky.Brandt was the first of the condemned men to mount the flight of wooden stairs to the scaffold—a task made more difficult from the fact that he was chained hand and foot. He was closely followed by Dean Hee, who exhorted him to firmness the whole time. Arrived on the scaffold, Brandt turned to the clergyman, and assured him that he had no fear, and his mind was quite composed. The worthy divine, however, continued to encourage him with these words: “Son, be of good cheer, for thy sins are forgiven thee.” Brandt throughout behaved with heroism. When his fetters were struck off the King’s bailiff stepped forward to read his sentence; he listened quietly to the end, and then protested his innocence. The deputy-bailiff held up to Brandt the tin shield, and formally asked him if it were his coat of arms painted thereon. Brandt merely nodded in answer, and the bailiff swung the shield into the air and broke it, with the words:“This is not done in vain, but as a just punishment.” Hee then began to recite in a loud voice the prayer for the dying, and when it was over he put to the condemned man the usual questions, to which Brandt answered again that he was sorry for what he had done wrong, but he left all to God, and was not afraid to die. Hee then gave him his blessing, and, taking him by the hand, delivered him over to the executioner.When the headsman approached to assist the prisoner in undressing, Brandt exclaimed firmly: “Stand back, and do not dare to touch me!” He undressed alone; he let his fur pelisse fall, took off his hat, removed his coat and waistcoat, bared his neck, and rolled up the shirt sleeve of his right arm. In this he suffered the executioner to help him, for he was afraid he might not roll it up sufficiently. Brandt then knelt down, laid his head on one block, and stretched out his right hand on another, and smaller one, hard by. While he was in this position, Hee whispered some last words of comfort, and then stood back. As the clergyman was reciting: “O Christ, in Thee I live, in Thee I die! O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy!” the executioner stepped forward, and with two well-directed blows completed his dread task.Immediately the execution was over the assistants advanced to perform the most horrible part of the sentence, and wreak the last indignities. They stripped the body, laid it on a block, disembowelledit, and split it into four quarters with an axe. Each part was then let down by a rope into a cart standing below, with the other remains; the head was held up on a pole, and shown to the multitude; then that, too, was let down into the cart, and lastly the right hand. After this the scaffold was strewn with fresh sand, the axes were roughly cleaned, and everything made ready for the next victim.Brandt’s execution had taken nearly half an hour. During the whole of this horrible scene Struensee sat in his coach, which was drawn up near the scaffold, with Pastor Münter by his side. Münter, who showed much more emotion than his penitent, had ordered the coach to be turned round in such a way that they should not see Brandt’s execution. But Struensee’s eyes had wandered to the block, and he said to Münter: “I have already seen it,” and then added: “We will look up again to heaven.” In this position he and his comforter remained while the last indignities were being wrought upon Brandt’s poor body, and together they prayed until Struensee was informed that his turn had come.Struensee became deadly pale, but otherwise retained his composure, and, getting out of the coach, he saluted the guard on either side. Some favoured personages had been allowed inside the square made by the soldiers. Many of these Struensee had known in the days of his triumph, and as he passed, led by Münter, he bowed to them also. But, as he approached the scaffold, his fortitude began to give way, and it was with difficulty that he mounted thefifteen steps which led to the top. When he reached the summit, Münter repeated in a low voice the comforting words: “He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” Then came the same formalities as in the case of Brandt: Struensee’s fetters were knocked off, the King’s confirmation of the sentence was read, and his coat of arms was broken. Then Münter, having prayed according to the melancholy ritual, solemnly asked Struensee if he repented of his sins and died in the true faith of a Christian.Struensee having answered these questions in the affirmative, Münter laid his hand upon his head, and said with deep emotion: “Go in peace whither God calls you. His grace be with you.” He then handed him over to the executioner.Struensee took off his fur pelisse and his hat. He would fain have undressed himself alone, but his trembling hands refused to do the work, and he was obliged to let the executioner help him. When his coat and waistcoat had been taken off, he produced a handkerchief to bind his eyes; but the executioner assured him that it would not be necessary, and took it away. He further removed his shirt, so that nothing might hinder the fall of the axe. Struensee then, with half his body bare, went with faltering steps to the block, which still reeked with the blood of Brandt. Here he reeled and would have fallen, but the headsman assisted him to kneel, and, with some difficulty, placed his head and hand in the right position. As the executionerraised his axe in the air to cut off the right hand, Münter recited: “Remember Christ crucified, who died, but is risen again.” The blow fell before the words were finished, and the right hand lay severed on the scaffold. But the victim was seized with violent convulsions, with the result that the executioner’s second blow, which was intended to behead him, failed. The wretched man sprang up spasmodically, but the assistants seized him by the hair, and held him down to the block by force. The executioner struck again, and this time with deadly effect; but even then it was not a clean blow, and a part of the neck had to be severed.The same revolting indignities were committed on Struensee’s corpse as on that of Brandt; it is unnecessary to repeat them. When all was over, the mangled remains of both men were thrown into a cart and were conveyed through the city to the gallows-hill outside the western gate. The heads were stuck on poles, the quarters were exposed on the wheels, and the hands nailed on a piece of board. Thus was left all that was mortal of Struensee and Brandt—an awful warning that all might see.[60][60]Archdeacon Coxe, who visited Copenhagen in 1775, states in hisTravelsthat he saw Struensee’s and Brandt’s skulls still exposed on the gallows-hill. There they remained for some years. Wraxall says that Struensee’s skull was eventually stolen by four English sailors belonging to a Russian man-of-war.From her watch-tower afar off, the Queen-Dowager witnessed the execution of the men whom she deemed her greatest enemies. Early in the morning Juliana Maria mounted to a tower on theeastern side of the Christiansborg Palace, and there through a strong telescope gloated over this judicial murder. The keen interest she took in every revolting detail revealed the depth of her vindictiveness. When Brandt’s execution was over, and Struensee mounted the steps to the scaffold, she clapped her hands triumphantly and exclaimed: “Now comes the fat one!” So great was her satisfaction that, it is said, she momentarily forgot her caution, and declared the only thing that marred her joy was the thought that Matilda’s corpse was not thrown into the cart with those of her accomplices. When the cart moved away, the Queen-Dowager, fearful lest she should lose any detail of the tragedy, ran down from the tower to the apartments which she occupied on the upper floor of the palace, and from the windows, which commanded a view of the gallows-hill to the west, she saw the last ignominy wrought on the remains of her victims. In after years the Queen-Dowager always lived in these unpretending rooms of the Christiansborg, though at Frederiksberg and the other palaces she took possession of Matilda’s apartments. Suhm, the historian, says that he once expressed surprise that she should still live in little rooms up many stairs, when all the palace was at her disposal, and Juliana Maria replied: “These rooms are dearer to me than my most splendid apartments elsewhere, for from the windows I saw the remains of my bitterest foes exposed on the wheel.” From her windows, too, for many years after, she could seethe skulls of Struensee and Brandt withering on the poles.[61][61]The statement that the Queen-Dowager witnessed the execution from a tower of the Christiansborg Palace is controverted by some on the ground that it would not be possible for her to see it from this point. Certainly it would not be possible to-day, owing to the growth of Copenhagen, and the many houses and other buildings which have been erected, but in 1772 there were comparatively few buildings between the Christiansborg Palace and the scene of the execution, so it was quite possible for the Queen-Dowager to view the gallows through a telescope.Against this statement of Suhm’s is to be set one of Münter’s. It does not necessarily conflict, but it shows how capable the Queen-Dowager was of acting a part. If she forgot herself for a moment on the tower of the Christiansborg, she quickly recovered her self-command, and behaved with her usual decorum. She sent for Münter, ostensibly to thank him for having effected Struensee’s conversion, in reality to extract from him all the mental agonies of her victims’ last moments, and thus further gratify her lust for vengeance. Münter expatiated on Struensee’s conversion, and gave her full particulars of his terror and sufferings at the last. The Queen-Dowager affected to be moved to tears, and said: “I feel sorry for the unhappy man. I have examined myself whether in all I have done against him I have been animated by any feeling of personal enmity, and my conscience acquits me.” She gave Münter a valuable snuff-box of rock-crystal, as a small token of her appreciation of his labours on behalf of Struensee’s soul. To Hee she also sent a snuff-box, but it was only of porcelain. Whether this was tomark her sense of the greater thoroughness of Struensee’s conversion, or whether it showed that she was not so much interested in Brandt as Struensee, it is impossible to say. Nor did her rewards end here. That both she and the ministers looked upon these clergymen as accomplices in bringing Struensee and Brandt to their death is shown from the fact that, when a commission of inquiry was appointed to consider “in what manner the persons employed in convicting the prisoners of state should be rewarded,” this commission allotted to Münter and Hee three hundred dollars each. But Juliana Maria was of a different opinion, and judged it more proper to make them presents.[62][62]Münter afterwards was appointed Bishop of Zealand.The executions of Struensee and Brandt brought about a revulsion in public feeling. It was felt that the national honour was satisfied, and the time had come to temper justice with mercy. The Queen-Dowager’s party were quick to note the change. Fearful of the least breath of popular displeasure, they now swung round from barbarity to leniency. Those placed under “house arrest” were set free, and the ten prisoners of state imprisoned in the citadel, were treated, for the most part, with leniency. Madame Gahler, Colonel Hesselberg, Admiral Hansel, Councillor Stürtz, Lieutenant Aböe, and Councillor Willebrandt, since no evidence could be produced against them, were released after an imprisonment of four and a half months, and were all banished from the capital. ProfessorBerger, the physician, who had been accused of poisoning, or drugging, the King, was also set free, and banished to Aalborg, in northern Jutland. It was found, after a searching examination, that the medicines he had given the King were quite innocuous.Three state prisoners still remained—General Gahler, Colonel Falckenskjold and Justice Struensee. Gahler was dismissed from the King’s service, and all his appointments, and was banished from Copenhagen. But on the understanding that the ruined soldier would neither speak nor write of public affairs, the King, by an act of special clemency, granted him a pension of five hundred dollars, and the same to his wife. Justice Struensee was also released, but ordered to quit the country immediately. This clemency, so different from what had been shown to his brother, was due to the interposition of the King of Prussia, who had kept Struensee’s position as professor of medicine at Liegnitz open for him, and with whom he was a favourite. Justice Struensee eventually became a Minister of State in Prussia.Falckenskjold, who was considered the worst of all the offenders after Struensee and Brandt, was stripped of all his employments and honours, and condemned to be imprisoned for life in the fortress of Munkholm. Falckenskjold remained at Munkholm for four years, where he suffered many hardships; but in 1776, through the intercession of Prince Frederick, he was set at liberty, on the conditionthat he would never return to Danish territory. After the revolution of 1784, when Queen Matilda’s son assumed the regency, the penalties against him were repealed; he was allowed to return to Copenhagen for a time to look after his affairs, and later was promoted to the rank of major-general. He never again took active part in Danish politics, but retired to Lausanne, where he found such friends as Gibbon and Reverdil. There he wrote hisMemoirs, which were largely directed to proving the innocence of Queen Matilda, and there he died in 1820 at the age of eighty-two years.

THE EXECUTIONS.

1772.

The prisoners were told of their fate on Friday, April 25, immediately after the sentences were pronounced. Uhldahl and Bang went to the citadel to inform their respective clients of the judgment against them, and to hand them a copy of their sentences.

Uhldahl, who had undertaken the defence of Struensee with a very ill-grace, entered the condemned man’s cell and curtly said: “Good Count, I bring you bad news,” and then, without a word of sympathy, he handed Struensee a copy of his sentence. Struensee, who had shown craven fear at intervals during his imprisonment, now read the document which condemned him to a barbarous and ignominious death with an unmoved air, and when he had perused it to the end, he handed it without a word to Dr. Münter, who was with him at the time. Apparently only the sentence, and not the judgment, was handed to the condemned man, for Struensee asked his advocate if he were condemned on all the counts in his indictment, to which Uhldahl answered in the affirmative. “Even on thatconcerning the education of the Crown Prince?” asked Struensee. “Even on that,” replied Uhldahl briefly. Struensee said that, if he had had any children of his own, he should have reared them in exactly the same way—to which Uhldahl made no reply. “And what is Brandt’s fate?” asked Struensee. “His sentence is exactly the same as yours.” “But could his counsel do nothing to save him?” demanded Struensee. “He said everything that could be urged in his favour; but Count Brandt had too much laid to his charge.” The thought of Brandt’s fate moved Struensee far more than his own; but he soon regained his composure, and resolved to petition the King, who had not yet signed the sentences, for mercy.

When Struensee and Münter were left alone, the latter lamented the barbarities of the sentence, but Struensee assured him they mattered little. He still held the same ground—that is to say, he admitted his guilt so far as the Queen was concerned, but maintained his innocence of all the other charges against him, even the one of having forged the document that gave him money from the Treasury, which must have been true. But he admitted that his intrigue with the Queen made him liable to the extremest punishment of the law. “My judges,” he said, “had the law before them, and therefore they could not decide otherwise. I confess my crime is great; I have violated the majesty of the King.” Even now, when the sentence had robbed him ofalmost his last hope, and he was face to face with a hideous death, this wretched man had no word of remorse or grief for the ruin, misery and suffering he had brought upon the Queen. Uhldahl had given him Matilda’s pathetic message—that she forgave him everything he had said and done against her, even the shameful confession by which he had striven to shield himself at her expense. Struensee received the message without emotion, and even with sullen indifference; he was so much engrossed with his own fate that he had no thought to spare for the Queen. Perhaps he thought it was a device of the Evil One to lure him away from the contemplation of his soul. However much we may suspect the motives which first led Struensee to his conversion, there is no doubt that he was sincerely zealous for his spiritual well-being at the last. The long months of solitary confinement, the ceaseless exhortations and prayers of the fervent Münter, the near approach of death, perhaps, too, some echo from the pious home in which he had been reared, combined to detach Struensee’s thoughts from the world and to concentrate them on his soul. He had reached that point which counts earth’s sufferings as little in comparison with the problems of eternity. The worldling, who had once thought of nothing but his material advancement, was now equally ambitious for his spiritual welfare. In his pursuit of the one he was as selfish and as absorbed as he had been in pursuit of the other. The motive had changed, but the man was the same.

STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON.STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON.From a Contemporary Print.

STRUENSEE IN HIS DUNGEON.From a Contemporary Print.

Brandt had also received a copy of his sentence from Bang, and, like Struensee, immediately petitioned the King for mercy. It was generally expected that the royal clemency would be exercised in his case. The judges who tried the case had no option but to pass sentence, but some of them had hoped that the extreme penalty of the law would be mitigated. It was the King’s business to sign the sentences, but the question of whether he should, or should not, confirm them was first discussed by the Council of State before the documents were sent to the King to sign. In the council itself there were voices on the side of mercy, especially for Brandt, but Rantzau and Osten, the two members of the council who had been familiar friends of the condemned men, absolutely opposed the idea of any mercy being shown to either of them. Yet there is no doubt that, if strict justice had been meted out, Rantzau, at least, would have been lying under the same sentence. Perhaps it was this thought which made him of all the council the most implacable and unyielding: dead men could tell no tales, and until both Struensee and Brandt were dead, Rantzau would not feel safe. So the council, at any rate by a majority, reported that the King should confirm the sentences.

All effort was not at an end, for Guldberg, the most influential of the judges who had condemned Struensee and Brandt, had an audience of Juliana Maria, and implored a mitigation of the punishment, or at least that Brandt’s life should be spared. ButJuliana Maria showed herself inflexible, and the vindictive side of her nature asserted itself without disguise. Brandt as well as Struensee had inflicted many slights upon her and her son; therefore he, too, should die. Guldberg, who had supposed his influence over the Queen-Dowager was all-powerful, as indeed it was on most points, was unable to move her in this, and might as well have pleaded to a rock. After a long and violent altercation he withdrew worsted, and until the executions were over he remained in strict retirement. Whatever may be said of the others, Guldberg, at any rate, washed his hands of the blood of the condemned men.

It may be doubted, however, if Juliana Maria, even if she had been otherwise minded, could have saved Brandt’s life, for the King, though easily led in many respects, showed remarkable obstinacy in this. Some of his ministers suggested to him that it would be generous of him to pardon Brandt, as the chief offence was one against his royal person; but the King at once showed the greatest repugnance to pardon. He hated Brandt much more than he hated Struensee; he had never forgiven him the assault, and the mere mention of his name was sufficient to fill him with rage. He positively declared that he would not sign either of the sentences unless he signed both, and, as no one wished Struensee to escape, the ministers gave way. The King signed both sentences, and displayed a savage joy when he heard that they were to be carried outwithout delay. In the evening he dined in public and went in state to the Italian opera.

On Friday, April 25, the prisoners were told of their sentences, and on Saturday they were informed that the King had signed them, and all hope was over. Their execution would take place on the Monday following. Both prisoners received the news with composure, though Struensee was much affected when he heard that every effort to save Brandt’s life had failed, and commented indignantly on the injustice of his sentence. Münter, who brought him the fatal news, greatly lamented that the barbarous and needless cruelties of the sentence had not been abolished. Struensee exhorted his friend and confessor to maintain his firmness, and said he would dispense with his services at the last if the sight would be too much for him. But to this Münter would not listen. “I shall suffer much more,” said Struensee, “if I see that you suffer too. Therefore, speak to me on the scaffold as little as you can. I will summon all my strength; I will turn my thoughts to Jesus, my Deliverer; I will not take formal leave of you, for that would unman me.” As to the brutal indignities of his death, he said: “I am far above all this, and I hope my friend Brandt feels the same. Here in this world, since I am on the point of leaving it, neither honour nor infamy can affect me any more. It is equally the same to me, after death, whether my body rots under the ground or in the open air—whether it serves to feed the worms or the birds. God will know how to preserve those particles whichon the resurrection day will constitute my glorified body. It is not my all which is to be exposed upon the wheel. Thank God, I am now well assured that this flesh is not my whole being.”

Struensee wrote three letters—one to Brandt’s brother, in which he bewailed having been the innocent cause of bringing “our dear Enevold to this pass”; another to Rantzau, saying he forgave him as he hoped to be forgiven, and exhorting him to turn to religion; and the third to Madam von Berkentin of Pinneberg, the lady who had first recommended Struensee to influential personages, and thus unwittingly had laid the foundation of his future greatness and of his future ruin. To his brother, Justice Struensee, who was also a prisoner, the condemned man sent a message of farewell through Münter. But to the Queen he sent neither word of remembrance nor prayer for forgiveness for the wrong he had done her. In this respect, at least, it would seem Struensee’s conversion was not complete.

When Hee brought Brandt the news that his execution was determined upon, he displayed a firmness and dignity hardly to be expected from one of his volatile temperament. He indulged in no pious aspirations after the manner of Struensee, but said quietly that he submitted to the will of God.

For the next two days Copenhagen was filled with subdued excitement. On Sunday, the day before the execution, the places of public resort were closed, but the citizens gathered together in little groups at the corners of the streets, and spoke inhushed accents of the tragedy of to-morrow. Meanwhile, the Government was taking every step to hurry forward the executions and preserve public order. Soldiers were already guarding a large field outside the eastern gate of Copenhagen, where a scaffold, eight yards long, eight yards broad and twenty-seven feet high, was being erected. Other soldiers were posted on the gallows-hill a little distance to the west, where two poles were planted, and four wheels tied to posts. The Government had some difficulty in finding carpenters to build the scaffold, as the men had a superstition about it; many of them refused, and were at last coerced by threats. No wheelwright would supply the wheels on which the remains of the wretched men were to be exposed, so at last they were taken from old carriages in the royal stables. Though the work was pressed forward with all speed, the scaffold was only completed a few hours before the execution, which was arranged to take place early in the morning of Monday, April 28.

All the night before crowds of people were moving towards the eastern gate, and at the first break of dawn large bodies of troops marched to the place of execution, and were drawn up in a large square around the scaffold. Others formed a guard along the route from the citadel, and everywhere the posts were doubled. When all preparations were complete, the eastern gate of the city was thrown open, and huge crowds surged towards the fatal field, or pressed against the soldiers who guarded theroute along which the condemned men were to journey from the citadel to the scaffold. Everywhere was a sea of countless heads. Upwards of thirty thousand persons, including women and little children, were gathered around the scaffold alone—some animated by a lust for blood and vengeance, but most of them by that morbid curiosity and love of the horrible common to all mobs in all ages of the world.

At a very early hour the two clergymen went to the condemned men to comfort and attend them in their last moments. When Münter entered Struensee’s cell, he found him reading Schegel’sSermons on the Passion of Christ. The unhappy man was already dressed. His jailors had given him, as if in mockery, the clothes he had worn at the masquerade ball the night of his arrest, and in which he had been hurried to prison—a blue cut-velvet coat and pink silk breeches. For the first time for many months his chains were taken off. Struensee greeted Münter calmly, and together they conversed on religious matters until the cell door opened and the dread summons came.

Dean Hee found Brandt brave and even cheerful. He, too, had been unchained from the wall, and was enjoying his brief spell of comparative freedom by walking up and down the room. Brandt, also, was vested in the clothes he had brought with him to the citadel—a green court dress richly embroidered with gold. He told Hee that he was not afraid to die, and seemed only anxious that the ordeal should be over. He asked him if he had seen any one executedbefore, and how far he ought to bare his neck and arm to the headsman’s axe. Presently the summons came for him too.

Both the condemned men were marched out to the large hall of the citadel, where they were again fettered by a chain attached to their left hand and right foot. As the morning was cold, they were allowed to wear their fur pelisses. In this attire they entered the coaches drawn up in the courtyard of the citadel. Brandt occupied the first coach, Struensee the second. On one side of each of the prisoners sat an officer with a drawn sword, on the other the clergyman; opposite them were placed two sergeants. The two coaches were guarded by two hundred infantry soldiers with fixed bayonets, and an equal number of dragoons with drawn sabres. In a third coach were seated the Fiscal-General, Wivet, and the King’s bailiff, and facing them was the deputy-bailiff, holding the two tin shields on which the arms of the Counts were painted, which were to be broken in the sight of the people.

At half-past eight the bell began to toll from the tower of the citadel. The gates were thrown open, and the melancholy procession emerged, and began its slow progress to the place of execution. Though the streets were thronged, and every window, balcony and housetop was filled with spectators, the condemned men passed along their last journey in silence—a silence only broken by the tramp of the soldiers’ and horses’ feet. The morning was dull and cold, and a slight mist hung over the Sound. Whenthe procession reached its destination, the Fiscal-General and the King’s bailiff and his deputy-bailiff mounted the scaffold, where the executioner, masked, and two stalwart assistants, also masked, awaited their victims, surrounded by the dread emblems of their hideous office. The large scaffold, which was twenty-seven feet in height, rose far above the heads of the soldiers who guarded it and the vast crowd beyond. All could see what took place there, even from a far distance, for this platform and the figures upon it were clearly silhouetted against the morning sky.

Brandt was the first of the condemned men to mount the flight of wooden stairs to the scaffold—a task made more difficult from the fact that he was chained hand and foot. He was closely followed by Dean Hee, who exhorted him to firmness the whole time. Arrived on the scaffold, Brandt turned to the clergyman, and assured him that he had no fear, and his mind was quite composed. The worthy divine, however, continued to encourage him with these words: “Son, be of good cheer, for thy sins are forgiven thee.” Brandt throughout behaved with heroism. When his fetters were struck off the King’s bailiff stepped forward to read his sentence; he listened quietly to the end, and then protested his innocence. The deputy-bailiff held up to Brandt the tin shield, and formally asked him if it were his coat of arms painted thereon. Brandt merely nodded in answer, and the bailiff swung the shield into the air and broke it, with the words:

“This is not done in vain, but as a just punishment.” Hee then began to recite in a loud voice the prayer for the dying, and when it was over he put to the condemned man the usual questions, to which Brandt answered again that he was sorry for what he had done wrong, but he left all to God, and was not afraid to die. Hee then gave him his blessing, and, taking him by the hand, delivered him over to the executioner.

When the headsman approached to assist the prisoner in undressing, Brandt exclaimed firmly: “Stand back, and do not dare to touch me!” He undressed alone; he let his fur pelisse fall, took off his hat, removed his coat and waistcoat, bared his neck, and rolled up the shirt sleeve of his right arm. In this he suffered the executioner to help him, for he was afraid he might not roll it up sufficiently. Brandt then knelt down, laid his head on one block, and stretched out his right hand on another, and smaller one, hard by. While he was in this position, Hee whispered some last words of comfort, and then stood back. As the clergyman was reciting: “O Christ, in Thee I live, in Thee I die! O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy!” the executioner stepped forward, and with two well-directed blows completed his dread task.

Immediately the execution was over the assistants advanced to perform the most horrible part of the sentence, and wreak the last indignities. They stripped the body, laid it on a block, disembowelledit, and split it into four quarters with an axe. Each part was then let down by a rope into a cart standing below, with the other remains; the head was held up on a pole, and shown to the multitude; then that, too, was let down into the cart, and lastly the right hand. After this the scaffold was strewn with fresh sand, the axes were roughly cleaned, and everything made ready for the next victim.

Brandt’s execution had taken nearly half an hour. During the whole of this horrible scene Struensee sat in his coach, which was drawn up near the scaffold, with Pastor Münter by his side. Münter, who showed much more emotion than his penitent, had ordered the coach to be turned round in such a way that they should not see Brandt’s execution. But Struensee’s eyes had wandered to the block, and he said to Münter: “I have already seen it,” and then added: “We will look up again to heaven.” In this position he and his comforter remained while the last indignities were being wrought upon Brandt’s poor body, and together they prayed until Struensee was informed that his turn had come.

Struensee became deadly pale, but otherwise retained his composure, and, getting out of the coach, he saluted the guard on either side. Some favoured personages had been allowed inside the square made by the soldiers. Many of these Struensee had known in the days of his triumph, and as he passed, led by Münter, he bowed to them also. But, as he approached the scaffold, his fortitude began to give way, and it was with difficulty that he mounted thefifteen steps which led to the top. When he reached the summit, Münter repeated in a low voice the comforting words: “He that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” Then came the same formalities as in the case of Brandt: Struensee’s fetters were knocked off, the King’s confirmation of the sentence was read, and his coat of arms was broken. Then Münter, having prayed according to the melancholy ritual, solemnly asked Struensee if he repented of his sins and died in the true faith of a Christian.

Struensee having answered these questions in the affirmative, Münter laid his hand upon his head, and said with deep emotion: “Go in peace whither God calls you. His grace be with you.” He then handed him over to the executioner.

Struensee took off his fur pelisse and his hat. He would fain have undressed himself alone, but his trembling hands refused to do the work, and he was obliged to let the executioner help him. When his coat and waistcoat had been taken off, he produced a handkerchief to bind his eyes; but the executioner assured him that it would not be necessary, and took it away. He further removed his shirt, so that nothing might hinder the fall of the axe. Struensee then, with half his body bare, went with faltering steps to the block, which still reeked with the blood of Brandt. Here he reeled and would have fallen, but the headsman assisted him to kneel, and, with some difficulty, placed his head and hand in the right position. As the executionerraised his axe in the air to cut off the right hand, Münter recited: “Remember Christ crucified, who died, but is risen again.” The blow fell before the words were finished, and the right hand lay severed on the scaffold. But the victim was seized with violent convulsions, with the result that the executioner’s second blow, which was intended to behead him, failed. The wretched man sprang up spasmodically, but the assistants seized him by the hair, and held him down to the block by force. The executioner struck again, and this time with deadly effect; but even then it was not a clean blow, and a part of the neck had to be severed.

The same revolting indignities were committed on Struensee’s corpse as on that of Brandt; it is unnecessary to repeat them. When all was over, the mangled remains of both men were thrown into a cart and were conveyed through the city to the gallows-hill outside the western gate. The heads were stuck on poles, the quarters were exposed on the wheels, and the hands nailed on a piece of board. Thus was left all that was mortal of Struensee and Brandt—an awful warning that all might see.[60]

[60]Archdeacon Coxe, who visited Copenhagen in 1775, states in hisTravelsthat he saw Struensee’s and Brandt’s skulls still exposed on the gallows-hill. There they remained for some years. Wraxall says that Struensee’s skull was eventually stolen by four English sailors belonging to a Russian man-of-war.

[60]Archdeacon Coxe, who visited Copenhagen in 1775, states in hisTravelsthat he saw Struensee’s and Brandt’s skulls still exposed on the gallows-hill. There they remained for some years. Wraxall says that Struensee’s skull was eventually stolen by four English sailors belonging to a Russian man-of-war.

From her watch-tower afar off, the Queen-Dowager witnessed the execution of the men whom she deemed her greatest enemies. Early in the morning Juliana Maria mounted to a tower on theeastern side of the Christiansborg Palace, and there through a strong telescope gloated over this judicial murder. The keen interest she took in every revolting detail revealed the depth of her vindictiveness. When Brandt’s execution was over, and Struensee mounted the steps to the scaffold, she clapped her hands triumphantly and exclaimed: “Now comes the fat one!” So great was her satisfaction that, it is said, she momentarily forgot her caution, and declared the only thing that marred her joy was the thought that Matilda’s corpse was not thrown into the cart with those of her accomplices. When the cart moved away, the Queen-Dowager, fearful lest she should lose any detail of the tragedy, ran down from the tower to the apartments which she occupied on the upper floor of the palace, and from the windows, which commanded a view of the gallows-hill to the west, she saw the last ignominy wrought on the remains of her victims. In after years the Queen-Dowager always lived in these unpretending rooms of the Christiansborg, though at Frederiksberg and the other palaces she took possession of Matilda’s apartments. Suhm, the historian, says that he once expressed surprise that she should still live in little rooms up many stairs, when all the palace was at her disposal, and Juliana Maria replied: “These rooms are dearer to me than my most splendid apartments elsewhere, for from the windows I saw the remains of my bitterest foes exposed on the wheel.” From her windows, too, for many years after, she could seethe skulls of Struensee and Brandt withering on the poles.[61]

[61]The statement that the Queen-Dowager witnessed the execution from a tower of the Christiansborg Palace is controverted by some on the ground that it would not be possible for her to see it from this point. Certainly it would not be possible to-day, owing to the growth of Copenhagen, and the many houses and other buildings which have been erected, but in 1772 there were comparatively few buildings between the Christiansborg Palace and the scene of the execution, so it was quite possible for the Queen-Dowager to view the gallows through a telescope.

[61]The statement that the Queen-Dowager witnessed the execution from a tower of the Christiansborg Palace is controverted by some on the ground that it would not be possible for her to see it from this point. Certainly it would not be possible to-day, owing to the growth of Copenhagen, and the many houses and other buildings which have been erected, but in 1772 there were comparatively few buildings between the Christiansborg Palace and the scene of the execution, so it was quite possible for the Queen-Dowager to view the gallows through a telescope.

Against this statement of Suhm’s is to be set one of Münter’s. It does not necessarily conflict, but it shows how capable the Queen-Dowager was of acting a part. If she forgot herself for a moment on the tower of the Christiansborg, she quickly recovered her self-command, and behaved with her usual decorum. She sent for Münter, ostensibly to thank him for having effected Struensee’s conversion, in reality to extract from him all the mental agonies of her victims’ last moments, and thus further gratify her lust for vengeance. Münter expatiated on Struensee’s conversion, and gave her full particulars of his terror and sufferings at the last. The Queen-Dowager affected to be moved to tears, and said: “I feel sorry for the unhappy man. I have examined myself whether in all I have done against him I have been animated by any feeling of personal enmity, and my conscience acquits me.” She gave Münter a valuable snuff-box of rock-crystal, as a small token of her appreciation of his labours on behalf of Struensee’s soul. To Hee she also sent a snuff-box, but it was only of porcelain. Whether this was tomark her sense of the greater thoroughness of Struensee’s conversion, or whether it showed that she was not so much interested in Brandt as Struensee, it is impossible to say. Nor did her rewards end here. That both she and the ministers looked upon these clergymen as accomplices in bringing Struensee and Brandt to their death is shown from the fact that, when a commission of inquiry was appointed to consider “in what manner the persons employed in convicting the prisoners of state should be rewarded,” this commission allotted to Münter and Hee three hundred dollars each. But Juliana Maria was of a different opinion, and judged it more proper to make them presents.[62]

[62]Münter afterwards was appointed Bishop of Zealand.

[62]Münter afterwards was appointed Bishop of Zealand.

The executions of Struensee and Brandt brought about a revulsion in public feeling. It was felt that the national honour was satisfied, and the time had come to temper justice with mercy. The Queen-Dowager’s party were quick to note the change. Fearful of the least breath of popular displeasure, they now swung round from barbarity to leniency. Those placed under “house arrest” were set free, and the ten prisoners of state imprisoned in the citadel, were treated, for the most part, with leniency. Madame Gahler, Colonel Hesselberg, Admiral Hansel, Councillor Stürtz, Lieutenant Aböe, and Councillor Willebrandt, since no evidence could be produced against them, were released after an imprisonment of four and a half months, and were all banished from the capital. ProfessorBerger, the physician, who had been accused of poisoning, or drugging, the King, was also set free, and banished to Aalborg, in northern Jutland. It was found, after a searching examination, that the medicines he had given the King were quite innocuous.

Three state prisoners still remained—General Gahler, Colonel Falckenskjold and Justice Struensee. Gahler was dismissed from the King’s service, and all his appointments, and was banished from Copenhagen. But on the understanding that the ruined soldier would neither speak nor write of public affairs, the King, by an act of special clemency, granted him a pension of five hundred dollars, and the same to his wife. Justice Struensee was also released, but ordered to quit the country immediately. This clemency, so different from what had been shown to his brother, was due to the interposition of the King of Prussia, who had kept Struensee’s position as professor of medicine at Liegnitz open for him, and with whom he was a favourite. Justice Struensee eventually became a Minister of State in Prussia.

Falckenskjold, who was considered the worst of all the offenders after Struensee and Brandt, was stripped of all his employments and honours, and condemned to be imprisoned for life in the fortress of Munkholm. Falckenskjold remained at Munkholm for four years, where he suffered many hardships; but in 1776, through the intercession of Prince Frederick, he was set at liberty, on the conditionthat he would never return to Danish territory. After the revolution of 1784, when Queen Matilda’s son assumed the regency, the penalties against him were repealed; he was allowed to return to Copenhagen for a time to look after his affairs, and later was promoted to the rank of major-general. He never again took active part in Danish politics, but retired to Lausanne, where he found such friends as Gibbon and Reverdil. There he wrote hisMemoirs, which were largely directed to proving the innocence of Queen Matilda, and there he died in 1820 at the age of eighty-two years.

CHAPTER XI.THE RELEASE OF THE QUEEN.1772.During the weeks occupied by the trials of Struensee and Brandt, Keith had been untiring in his efforts on behalf of Queen Matilda, and wrung from her enemies one concession after another. As the result of his insistence, the Queen was no longer confined in one small room, but was permitted to use the large dining-hall outside it and the other apartments adjoining. She was also allowed to go out and take the air on the ramparts and the leads of the castle. Her food was better served, and she was waited on with some ceremony by her household. The preachers in the fortress chapel were no longer instructed to hurl insults at the Queen, and when she attended divine service there was nothing to remind her of her misfortunes, beyond the omission of her name from the liturgy. The little Princess was still allowed to remain with her. This indulgence was probably due to the fact that the child was ill of the measles, and it might have cost the infant her life to take her away at this time from the Queen, who most devotedly nursed her day and night, and found in the child her only consolation. Keith wrote ofthis incident: “A more tender mother than this Queen never was born in the world.”Queen Matilda had now been imprisoned at Kronborg several months, and by the gentleness and dignity with which she bore her sorrows she won the respect and devotion of her jailors. Her natural kindness of heart showed itself even under these distressing circumstances; she made inquiries concerning the other prisoners who were detained in the fortress, and, as soon as greater freedom was allowed her, did what she could to alleviate their lot. From the little money she possessed, she gave sums from time to time to buy them comforts, and, when her dinner was served to her properly, she put aside two dishes from her table every day, with orders that they should be given to certain prisoners whom she had singled out for compassion. One of these was a Danish officer, who had been confined for many years in a small cell on suspicion of having entered into a treasonable correspondence with Sweden. The commandant of Kronborg remonstrated with the Queen, and asked her to bestow her little bounty on some other, lest her kindness should be construed into a condonation of the prisoner’s heinous offence. The Queen declined, and quoted the following line of Voltaire’s: “Il suffit qu’il soit homme, et qu’il soit malheureux.”The Queen in her prison heard of the tragic death of Struensee and Brandt. According to one account she swooned with grief and horror, and when she rallied spoke no word. According toanother she received the news with emotion, and exclaimed to Fräulein Mösting, her maid-of-honour: “Unhappy men; they have paid dearly for their devotion to the King and their zeal in my service.” These words, it must be admitted, do not show overwhelming grief for the death of the man who but a short time before had been dearer to her than all the world. Perhaps his shameful confession, and the way he had received her message of forgiveness, influenced her in spite of herself. She forgave him the wrong he had done her; she uttered no word of reproach; she showed the deepest pity for his sufferings and horror at his fate; but it was impossible that she could feel quite the same towards him as she had done. Perhaps, too, long months of solitary confinement had brought reflection, and the death of her mother, and the thought of her children, whom she dearly loved, had aroused her to a higher sense of her duties; and her eyes, no longer blinded by passion, saw clearly in what she had failed. Certain it is that Matilda’s character was purified and ennobled by suffering.After the sentence of divorce was pronounced, Keith had insisted upon seeing the Queen. For some time this request was refused, or rather he was always put off on one pretext or another. But Keith clamoured in season and out of season at the doors of the Christiansborg, and became so threatening that at last the crafty Osten and the vindictive Juliana Maria had to give way, and most unwillingly gave leave to the English envoy to visit his Sovereign’ssister. But this permission does not seem to have been granted until after the execution of Struensee and Brandt.SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B.SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B.Unfortunately, there exists no account of the first interview at Kronborg between Queen Matilda and Keith; the despatches which the English envoy wrote home at this time have all been destroyed. But we can imagine what it must have been. In the days when Struensee was in the ascendant, the young Queen was hardly permitted to see her brother’s representative—much less to have any conversation with him. She was taught to look on him rather as an enemy than a friend, and an enemy he undoubtedly was to Struensee and his administration. But, freed from that baneful influence, she realised that the Englishman was her only friend, and, if help came at all, it must come from England, her native land, which, in the days of her brief madness, she had forgotten. Now she clung to Keith as her friend and champion; she placed herself unreservedly in his hands; she spoke to him quite freely, and besought him to save her from the malice of her enemies. But it needed neither her tears nor her prayers to urge this brave soldier to fight for his King’s sister; indeed, in her defence he was more zealous than the King himself. He sent home a copy of the sentence against the Queen, and a full account of her trial, pointing out its obvious unfairness, the suborned and perjured nature of the evidence, and the way the Queen’s so-called confession had been extorted from her under false pretences.It is said that George III. had these papers submitted to some of the first law officers of the crown, and they reported that the evidence was insufficient to prove the Queen guilty, and, even where it might be believed, it was only of a presumptive and inconclusive nature. On the strength of this report George III. determined to give his sister the benefit of the doubt. Moved by the despatches in which Keith eloquently portrayed the young Queen’s privations and sufferings and the danger to which she was exposed from the fury and malice of her enemies, George III. sent instructions to his envoy to peremptorily demand that Matilda should be set at liberty forthwith, and handed over to his keeping.On receipt of this despatch Keith lost no time in acquainting the Danish Government with its contents; but the Queen-Dowager and her adherents demurred. Every preparation had been made to remove the unfortunate young Queen to Aalborg—a lonely fortress on the extreme edge of Jutland, and to keep her there in perpetual imprisonment. And to Aalborg, they informed Keith, she would shortly be conducted. Matilda had a presentiment that if she once went to Aalborg she would never leave it alive. The only link that bound her to Denmark was her children; apart from them, she had nothing there, and her one wish was to leave it for ever, and return to the country which gave her birth. But, though Keith stormed and protested, the Danish Government showed no signs of yielding. Perhaps they trusted to the alleged lukewarmness ofthe King of England, and believed that he would not force matters to extremities. Keith wrote home a strongly worded despatch, saying that it was absolutely necessary for the English Government to take prompt and vigorous measures if this daughter of England were to be set free. He also pointed out the bad effect it would have upon British influence in Europe if, at such a moment, England did not show herself as good as her word. On receipt of this despatch, George III. no longer hesitated and took the vigorous measures he ought to have taken long before; his own honour and the honour of England alike demanded that the Queen should not be abandoned to her fate. He commanded Keith to inform the Danish Government that, unless they at once agreed to deliver the Queen to his keeping, the English minister would present his letters of recall, a state of war would be declared between England and Denmark, and a fleet would be despatched to bombard Copenhagen. And, in order to follow up his words with action, orders were sent to the Admiralty for the fitting out of a strong fleet, and though no directions were given as to where it was to sail, it was universally thought to be destined for Denmark. The Danish envoy in London thought so too, for he wrote to Copenhagen in great alarm. He said that the King of England was really roused at last, he referred to his well-known obstinacy, and urged the Danish Government to yield to his demands.In England the fate of the Queen of Denmark,which for so many months had hung in the balance, was followed with close attention, and when rumours came of the fitting out of the fleet, the public excitement was wrought to the highest pitch. The Opposition, which had first championed the cause of Matilda with more zeal than discretion, now turned against her, and denounced the Government in the strongest terms for bringing about a war between two friendly nations for a worthless woman. The vilest pamphlets suddenly flooded the streets. To quote a journal of the day: “Yesterday, in some parts of the city, men were crying about printed papers, containing the most scandalous rumours, and impudent reflections on the Queen of Denmark. The worst prostitute that ever Covent Garden produced could not have had more gross abuse bestowed on her.”[63][63]General Evening Post, April 30, 1772.Fortunately, for all concerned, the crisis was averted. When Keith, on receipt of the King of England’s orders, presented himself at the Christiansborg Palace and delivered his ultimatum, panic struck the hearts of the Queen-Dowager and her adherents, and this panic was heightened by the news, conveyed to them by the Danish envoy in London, that a fleet was fitted out and ready to sail. The Queen-Dowager did not yield her victim without a struggle, she hated Matilda more than Struensee and all his accomplices put together, but she was overborne by the remonstrances of the rest, who knew that to precipitate a conflict with England at this juncture would assuredly prove their ruin. Whatever theissue of the struggle (and there was not much doubt about that), the Danish people would never forgive the Government for involving them in a ruinous war on such a pretext. Moreover, there was a revulsion of feeling in favour of the young Queen, and, since the death of Struensee, sympathy with her had been gaining ground daily. It really would be safer, urged some, to get her out of the country than to keep her shut up at Aalborg, for her adherents would always be plotting to obtain her release. These considerations weighed even with Juliana Maria, and made her see virtue in necessity. Keith, who had noted these signs of weakness and divided counsels, pushed his advantage, and with such success that he gained every point, and more than every point, that George III. demanded. Not only did the Danish Government agree to deliver Matilda to the King of England’s keeping, but they further promised that the sentence of divorce should not be officially published, that they would do all they could to hush up the scandal, that she should be permitted to retain her title of Queen, and that they would pay a yearly allowance towards her maintenance in another country. The Queen was not only to be set free, but to be set free with honour. On only one point they would not yield: they would not allow her to say good-bye to her son, or to take her daughter with her. By the finding of the judges the Princess was the King of Denmark’s child, and therefore he was her proper guardian.As Keith had no instructions on this point, hewas powerless to insist upon it; but it was with a glad heart that he sat down to write his despatch, which informed his King that every point had been gained—that his demands had been complied with, and war would be averted.The English Government received Keith’s despatch with a great sense of relief. The King, now his blood was up, would undoubtedly have insisted upon the fleet sailing, and many complications would have ensued. The Government were by no means sure that they would have the nation at their back in declaring war on such a pretext. The whole story of the Queen of Denmark’s errors would have become common property; the King of Prussia, who was in close alliance with Denmark, and whose Queen was the sister of Juliana Maria, would probably have marched an army into Hanover if Copenhagen had been bombarded, and a new war would have been kindled in the north of Europe. Therefore, both the King and the Government had every reason to congratulate themselves that these difficulties had been avoided, and it was resolved to promote Keith as a reward for the successful way in which he had conducted the negotiations. Lord Suffolk wrote to Keith the following despatches:—“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.“Sir,“Your despatches by King the messenger have already been acknowledged; those by Pearson were received on Wednesday afternoon, and I now answer both together.“His Majesty’s entire approbation of your conduct continues to the last moment of your success, and his satisfaction has in no part of it been more complete than in the manner in which you have stated, urged and obtained the liberty of his sister, and the care you have taken to distinguish between a claim of right and the subjects of negotiation, and to prevent the mixture of stipulations with a demand is perfectly agreeable with your instructions.“The national object of procuring the liberty of a daughter of England confined in Denmark after her connection with Denmark was dissolved is now obtained. For this alone an armament was prepared, and therefore, as soon as the acquiescence of the court of Copenhagen was known, the preparations were suspended, that the mercantile and marine interests of this kingdom might be affected no longer than was necessary by the expectation of a war.“Instead of a hostile armament, two frigates and a sloop of war are now ordered to Elsinore. One of them is already in the Downs—the others will repair thither immediately: and, as soon as wind permits, they will proceed to their destination. I enclose to you an account of them, which you may transfer to Monsieur Ostein [Count Osten] ministerially, referring at the same time to the assurance of these pacific proceedings.“The compliance of the Danish court with his Majesty’s demand, however forced, is still a compliance. Their continuing, unasked, the style of Queen and other concessions, and the attainment of the national object, accompanying each other, hisMajesty would think it improper to interrupt the national intercourse from any personal or domestic consideration. You will therefore inform Monsieur Ostein that his Majesty intends to have a minister at the court of Copenhagen, the explanation you may give of this suspension of former directions and his determinations being left to your own discretion.“You will not be that minister. His Majesty will have occasion for your services in a more eligible situation, and, as soon as you have discharged your duty to the Queen of Denmark by attending her to Stade, you will return home, either on board his Majesty’s ship which conveyed you thither, or, if the passage by sea is disagreeable to you, by land, with the least possible delay.“I am, with great truth and regard, Sir,“Your most obedient and humble servant,“Suffolk.”[64][64]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.“For your own information, I enclose a list of the ships which were intended to enforce the demand for the Queen of Denmark’s liberty, if it had been refused. Those from Plymouth would have been sailed if the countermand had been a few hours later than it was. The others were just ready to proceed to the Downs, and the whole fleet would probably have by this time been on their way to Copenhagen, under the command of Sir Charles Hardy.“I am, etc.,“Suffolk.”[65][65]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.The public curiosity in London, which had been keenly aroused by the news that a fleet was being hastily fitted out for the Baltic, was no less excited when the preparations were suddenly stopped by a counter-order, sent to Portsmouth on April 22. Though no official information was vouchsafed, people shrewdly guessed the truth. Horace Walpole gives a fair idea of the gossip which was floating about London:—“The King, as Lord Hertford told me, had certainly ordered the fleet to sail; and a near relation of Lord North told me that the latter had not been acquainted with that intention. Lord Mansfield, therefore, who had now got the King’s ear, or Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, must have been consulted. The latter, though I should think he would not approve of it, was capable of flattering the King’s wishes; Lord Mansfield assuredly would. The destination was changed on the arrival of a courier from Denmark, who brought word that the Queen was repudiated, and, I suppose, a promise that her life would be spared, for though the Danes had thirty ships and the best seamen next to ours, and though we were sending but ten ships against them, the governing party were alarmed, probably from not being sure that their nation was with them.”[66][66]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III.Again: “They gave her [the Queen of Denmark] the title of Countess of Aalborg, and condemned her to be shut up in the castle of that name. The King of England had certainly known her storytwo years before; a clerk in the secretary’s office, having opened a letter that came with the account,[67]told me he had seen it before the secretary gave it to the King. It was now believed that this intelligence had occasioned the Princess of Wales to make an extraordinary journey to Germany, where she saw her daughter, though to no purpose. Princess Amelia told Lord Hertford on the 26th [April] ... that Queen Matilda had a very high spirit, and that she believed the Danes would consent to let her go to Hanover. ‘But she will not be let go thither,’ added the Princess, meaning that the Queen’s brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, commanded there, ‘or to Zell, but she will not go thither’ [another of the Queen’s brothers was there]; ‘perhaps shemaygo to Lüneburg.’”[68][67]The account of the Queen’s alleged intrigue with Struensee.[68]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III., vol. i.Queen Matilda’s destination had been determined by her brother before her release was assured. Matilda had herself petitioned that she might be allowed to return to England, and live the rest of her life among her own people; but this natural request was refused. The King at first was inclined to grant it, and, if the Princess-Dowager of Wales had been alive, no doubt it would have been granted. But Queen Charlotte, who had always shown the greatest jealousy of the King’s sisters, and had quarrelled fiercely with the Princess of Brunswick, displayed the bitterest animus against the unfortunate Matilda, who surely could have given her nocause of offence, for she had left England when a child of fifteen. It is probable that the King’s harsh judgment of his sister, and his slowness to intervene on her behalf, were instigated by Queen Charlotte, who now shrilly opposed the idea of Matilda returning to England. Her rigid virtue rose in arms at the bare suggestion of such a thing; she declared that she would not receive her sister-in-law; that her presence at court would be an insult; that she would contaminate the young princesses, her daughters, and be to them a bad example. Queen Charlotte had her way, for the King did not venture to stand up against the tempest of her virtuous indignation. He then thought of sending his sister to Hanover; there were three empty palaces there, and his Hanoverian subjects would be sure to receive her kindly. But Queen Charlotte opposed that too: Hanover was too gay a place, she said, for one who ought to hide her head from all the world; and at her instigation her brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, who commanded there, raised objections also. The idea of sending Matilda to Lüneburg was out of the question, for there was no house there, and it was too near the frontier of Denmark. So at last the King decided upon Celle as the most suitable place for his sister to find a refuge. True, Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz commanded the garrison, another of the Queen’s brothers (Queen Charlotte provided for all her needy relatives at the expense of her adopted country), but he was young and unmarried, and offered no objection. On the contrary,he looked forward to the advent of the Queen as a break in the monotony of Celle. To Celle, therefore, it was determined she should go.Celle was an old town in the King’s Hanoverian dominions, about twenty miles north of Hanover. It was formerly the capital of the Dukes of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and the town was dominated by the magnificent castle where they formerly held their court.[69]The last Duke of Celle was George William, brother of Ernest Augustus, first Elector of Hanover and the father of George I. of England. George I., then the Hereditary Prince of Hanover, married his cousin, the only daughter of the Duke of Celle, the unfortunate Sophie Dorothea. At Duke George William’s death he became, through his marriage, possessed of the dukedom of Celle, which was merged into the electorate of Hanover. Since the death of Duke George William in 1705, there had no longer been a court at Celle, and the importance of the town had waned, while that of its rival, Hanover, had increased, though Celle still remained a seat of justice, and a garrison was quartered there. The castle as a place of residence needed many things to make it habitable. George III. now gave orders that it was to be thoroughly repaired, and a suite of apartments re-decorated and furnished for his sister, and rooms prepared for the accommodation of her household.[69]The ancestors of the royal families of England, Germany (Prussia) and Hanover all lived at Celle.Keith carried to the imprisoned Queen thetidings of her deliverance early in May. It was with feelings of triumph and gladness that he hastened to Kronborg to inform her of his success, and the King of England’s plans for her future welfare. As he wrote to his sister: “To demand the liberty of a captive Queen, and to escort her to a land of freedom is truly such a commencement of my chivalry as savours strongly of the romantic. You will easily judge of the warmth of your brother’s zeal in the execution of a commission so well adapted to his genius. Can you figure to yourself what he must have felt in passing through the vaulted entrance of Hamlet’s castle to carry to an afflicted and injured princess these welcome proofs of fraternal affection and liberty restored?”[70]His emotion was reciprocated, for, when Keith came into the Queen’s chamber and told her the glad news, she burst into grateful tears, embraced him, and called him her deliverer. The gallant soldier could have had no better reward.[70]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.It was Keith’s duty and pleasure now to inform the Queen that she was no longer to consider herself a prisoner, but was merely residing in the King of Denmark’s palace of Kronborg until such time as the English squadron should arrive to escort her to her brother’s Hanoverian dominions with every mark of honour and respect. He also told her of the other concessions he had obtained for her; he had wrung almost everything from her enemies except a proclamation of her innocence. On this delicatesubject the Queen is stated to have said that she found some consolation in the thought that time would clear her character. “I am young; I may, therefore, perhaps live," said she, “to see Denmark disabused with respect to my conduct; whereas my poor mother, one of the best women that ever lived, died while the load of obloquy was heavy upon her, and went to her grave without the pleasure of a vindicated character.”[71]Throughout her imprisonment at Kronborg Matilda had worn black—“in mourning,” she said, “for her murdered reputation”.[71]General Evening Post, May 14, 1772.Though Keith brought to Matilda the news of her deliverance early in May, it was not until the end of that month that the Queen left Kronborg. During that time she saw the English envoy almost every day, though he, too, like herself, was making preparations for departure. She was no longer treated as a prisoner, but rendered all the honour due to her rank, and she was free to wander within the outer walls of the fortress as she pleased—a very large space. The Queen’s favourite walk was on the ramparts in front of the castle, where she would often pace for hours together, straining her eyes across the grey waters of the sea to catch the first glimpse of the British squadron which was to take her away from Denmark. She declared that until she beheld the British flag she would not feel herself safe. The Queen-Dowager was now quite as anxious toget Matilda out of Denmark as she was to go, and to this end agreed to almost everything suggested by Keith, and in some respects even went beyond his suggestions. Matilda had a great many jewels, which were not the property of the Danish crown, but her own. Some of them she had brought with her from England; others had been given her by the King, her husband; some she had purchased with her own money. All of these had been seized by Juliana Maria, together with the Queen’s clothes and her personal possessions. When Matilda was first sent to Kronborg she had little or nothing beyond the clothes she wore, but little by little, grudgingly, things had been sent her. Now the Queen-Dowager volunteered to send Matilda the jewels which King Christian had given her; but the wronged wife rejected the offer with disdain. She would take no favour she said; she wished to have nothing to remind her of the husband who had repudiated her, or the country which had treated her so cruelly; as a British princess she would retain none of the trappings of her Danish slavery. The question formed a subject of despatches, and Lord Suffolk wrote to Keith as follows: “His Majesty does not see any objection to his sister receiving the jewels you mention, which were formerly given, and are now intended to be delivered to her. Her Danish Majesty will thereby only retain a property, not accept a present. There seems no occasion for rejecting the attention voluntarily offered; but, if the Queen of Denmark is very averse from theproposition, his Majesty does not wish to control her inclination.” The Queenwasvery averse, and so the offer was rejected. But Matilda requested that her personal trinkets which she had brought from England, and her books, clothing and other things, left scattered about in the King of Denmark’s palaces, should be packed up and sent to her new home at Celle. We shall see how that order was carried out later.On May 27 the Queen’s longing eyes were gladdened by the sight of the English squadron rounding the point off Elsinore. The Queen was at dinner when the guns at Kronborg saluted and the English ships answered back. She immediately ran out on the ramparts, and wept with joy at the sight of the British flag. Yet it was with mingled feelings that she beheld it, for the vessels which were to carry her away to liberty were also to carry her away from the child whom she dearly loved. The squadron consisted of theSouthampton(Captain Macbride), theSeaford(Captain Davis), and theCruiser(Captain Cummings). Keith, who had now said good-bye to Copenhagen to his great satisfaction, and had handed over the affairs of the legation to his secretary, was at Kronborg when the ships anchored off Elsinore. He at once went down to the harbour to meet Captain Macbride, and conduct him to the castle to have audience of the Queen.A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.From the Drawing by C. F. Christensen.The Queen received Captain Macbride very graciously, and conversed with him a few minutes.When he asked her when it would please her to sail, she exclaimed: “Ah, my dear children!” and, putting her hands to her face, abruptly quitted the room. Later she sent Captain Macbride a message, asking him to forgive her emotion, and appointing two days later, May 30, as the date of her departure.When it was known that the British squadron was anchored off Elsinore, great excitement prevailed at the Danish court. By way of speeding the parting guest, perhaps also to spy upon her, a deputation of noblemen was sent from Copenhagen by the Queen-Dowager to formally wait upon Matilda and wish her a pleasant voyage. Queen Matilda received the deputation with quiet dignity, and said the day would come when the King would know that he had been betrayed and deceived, but, for herself, she henceforth lived only for her children.On the day appointed by the Queen for her departure, a lady from the Danish court arrived at Kronborg in one of the royal coaches, with an escort, to take charge of the Princess Louise Augusta. The Queen was agonised at parting from the infant, who had been her sole consolation in the dreary months of her captivity, and whom she had nursed at the breast. She even thought her liberty purchased at too dear a price. The hope that this child would be allowed to remain with her had been one of the inducements which led her to sign the damning paper called her confession. It must have been a bitter thought to her that she had signed away her honour invain, and the babe for whom she made this supreme sacrifice was to be torn from her arms. For a long time the Queen held her child to her breast, and wept over it, showering on it caresses and endearing words. The lady who had come to take charge of the infant, and all who witnessed the parting, were hardly less affected; but the scene could not be prolonged for ever. Pleadings and remonstrances were unavailing, and the women had almost to use force to take the little princess from her mother’s arms. At last the heart-broken Queen yielded her infant, and cried wildly, “Let me away, for I now possess nothing here!”By this time it was six o’clock in the evening. Everything was ready for the Queen’s departure, and Captain Macbride and Sir Robert Keith had been waiting at the castle all the afternoon to escort the Queen on board. At last she was ready to leave. It was arranged that the Queen should be attended as far as Stade by Count and Countess Holstein, Fräulein Mösting and a page. Of her other Danish attendants the Queen now took farewell, and many of them were moved to tears. She also bade adieu to the commandant of Kronborg and his wife, and exonerated them from all blame for the deprivations she had suffered. She thanked the commandant for what he had done directly he was allowed to ameliorate the rigours of her captivity; to his wife she gave a gold snuff-box as a souvenir. Nor did she forget the poor prisoners, for whom she left a sum of money. Though she came to Kronborg aprisoner she left it as a Queen, and a Queen to whom full honours were paid. The guard presented arms and an escort was drawn up in the courtyard; the Queen descended the stone stairs up which she had been hurried five months before, and entered her coach. The commandant accompanied her to the outermost gate of the fortress, where he took his leave. Thence it was only a few yards to the harbour, where a Danish royal barge was waiting to row the Queen out to the English squadron.Immediately the Queen and her suite stepped on board H.M.S.Southamptonthe royal standard of England was unfurled, and the cannon of Kronborg and of the Danish guardship in the Sound fired a salute of twenty-one guns. The anchors were weighed immediately, and the little English squadron set sail up the Cattegat, for it was decided to go round Jutland, and so avoid Copenhagen. It was a fine summer’s night, and the Queen remained on deck, her eyes fixed on the vanishing fortress (her child was to remain there until the morrow, when she was to be taken to Copenhagen); nor could she be persuaded to go below until darkness intercepted her view. As there was little wind during the night the vessels made small headway. At the first break of dawn the Queen was on deck again, and to her satisfaction found that she could still catch a glimpse of the towers of Kronborg, which she watched until they faded from her view.Owing to contrary winds the voyage to Stadetook several days. The Queen is said to have beguiled her voyage by writing a long poem beginning:—At length from sceptred care and deadly state,From galling censure and ill-omened hate,From the vain grandeur where I lately shone,From Kronborg’s prison and from Denmark’s throneI go.[72][72]This poem was found among Sir R. M. Keith’s papers after his death, headed: “Written at sea by the Queen of Denmark on her passage to Stade, 1772.” But the writing was not that of the Queen, and, as Matilda had no gift for literary composition, it is doubtful whether it is genuine. I therefore only quote the first five lines.

THE RELEASE OF THE QUEEN.

1772.

During the weeks occupied by the trials of Struensee and Brandt, Keith had been untiring in his efforts on behalf of Queen Matilda, and wrung from her enemies one concession after another. As the result of his insistence, the Queen was no longer confined in one small room, but was permitted to use the large dining-hall outside it and the other apartments adjoining. She was also allowed to go out and take the air on the ramparts and the leads of the castle. Her food was better served, and she was waited on with some ceremony by her household. The preachers in the fortress chapel were no longer instructed to hurl insults at the Queen, and when she attended divine service there was nothing to remind her of her misfortunes, beyond the omission of her name from the liturgy. The little Princess was still allowed to remain with her. This indulgence was probably due to the fact that the child was ill of the measles, and it might have cost the infant her life to take her away at this time from the Queen, who most devotedly nursed her day and night, and found in the child her only consolation. Keith wrote ofthis incident: “A more tender mother than this Queen never was born in the world.”

Queen Matilda had now been imprisoned at Kronborg several months, and by the gentleness and dignity with which she bore her sorrows she won the respect and devotion of her jailors. Her natural kindness of heart showed itself even under these distressing circumstances; she made inquiries concerning the other prisoners who were detained in the fortress, and, as soon as greater freedom was allowed her, did what she could to alleviate their lot. From the little money she possessed, she gave sums from time to time to buy them comforts, and, when her dinner was served to her properly, she put aside two dishes from her table every day, with orders that they should be given to certain prisoners whom she had singled out for compassion. One of these was a Danish officer, who had been confined for many years in a small cell on suspicion of having entered into a treasonable correspondence with Sweden. The commandant of Kronborg remonstrated with the Queen, and asked her to bestow her little bounty on some other, lest her kindness should be construed into a condonation of the prisoner’s heinous offence. The Queen declined, and quoted the following line of Voltaire’s: “Il suffit qu’il soit homme, et qu’il soit malheureux.”

The Queen in her prison heard of the tragic death of Struensee and Brandt. According to one account she swooned with grief and horror, and when she rallied spoke no word. According toanother she received the news with emotion, and exclaimed to Fräulein Mösting, her maid-of-honour: “Unhappy men; they have paid dearly for their devotion to the King and their zeal in my service.” These words, it must be admitted, do not show overwhelming grief for the death of the man who but a short time before had been dearer to her than all the world. Perhaps his shameful confession, and the way he had received her message of forgiveness, influenced her in spite of herself. She forgave him the wrong he had done her; she uttered no word of reproach; she showed the deepest pity for his sufferings and horror at his fate; but it was impossible that she could feel quite the same towards him as she had done. Perhaps, too, long months of solitary confinement had brought reflection, and the death of her mother, and the thought of her children, whom she dearly loved, had aroused her to a higher sense of her duties; and her eyes, no longer blinded by passion, saw clearly in what she had failed. Certain it is that Matilda’s character was purified and ennobled by suffering.

After the sentence of divorce was pronounced, Keith had insisted upon seeing the Queen. For some time this request was refused, or rather he was always put off on one pretext or another. But Keith clamoured in season and out of season at the doors of the Christiansborg, and became so threatening that at last the crafty Osten and the vindictive Juliana Maria had to give way, and most unwillingly gave leave to the English envoy to visit his Sovereign’ssister. But this permission does not seem to have been granted until after the execution of Struensee and Brandt.

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B.SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B.

SIR ROBERT MURRAY KEITH, K.C.B.

Unfortunately, there exists no account of the first interview at Kronborg between Queen Matilda and Keith; the despatches which the English envoy wrote home at this time have all been destroyed. But we can imagine what it must have been. In the days when Struensee was in the ascendant, the young Queen was hardly permitted to see her brother’s representative—much less to have any conversation with him. She was taught to look on him rather as an enemy than a friend, and an enemy he undoubtedly was to Struensee and his administration. But, freed from that baneful influence, she realised that the Englishman was her only friend, and, if help came at all, it must come from England, her native land, which, in the days of her brief madness, she had forgotten. Now she clung to Keith as her friend and champion; she placed herself unreservedly in his hands; she spoke to him quite freely, and besought him to save her from the malice of her enemies. But it needed neither her tears nor her prayers to urge this brave soldier to fight for his King’s sister; indeed, in her defence he was more zealous than the King himself. He sent home a copy of the sentence against the Queen, and a full account of her trial, pointing out its obvious unfairness, the suborned and perjured nature of the evidence, and the way the Queen’s so-called confession had been extorted from her under false pretences.It is said that George III. had these papers submitted to some of the first law officers of the crown, and they reported that the evidence was insufficient to prove the Queen guilty, and, even where it might be believed, it was only of a presumptive and inconclusive nature. On the strength of this report George III. determined to give his sister the benefit of the doubt. Moved by the despatches in which Keith eloquently portrayed the young Queen’s privations and sufferings and the danger to which she was exposed from the fury and malice of her enemies, George III. sent instructions to his envoy to peremptorily demand that Matilda should be set at liberty forthwith, and handed over to his keeping.

On receipt of this despatch Keith lost no time in acquainting the Danish Government with its contents; but the Queen-Dowager and her adherents demurred. Every preparation had been made to remove the unfortunate young Queen to Aalborg—a lonely fortress on the extreme edge of Jutland, and to keep her there in perpetual imprisonment. And to Aalborg, they informed Keith, she would shortly be conducted. Matilda had a presentiment that if she once went to Aalborg she would never leave it alive. The only link that bound her to Denmark was her children; apart from them, she had nothing there, and her one wish was to leave it for ever, and return to the country which gave her birth. But, though Keith stormed and protested, the Danish Government showed no signs of yielding. Perhaps they trusted to the alleged lukewarmness ofthe King of England, and believed that he would not force matters to extremities. Keith wrote home a strongly worded despatch, saying that it was absolutely necessary for the English Government to take prompt and vigorous measures if this daughter of England were to be set free. He also pointed out the bad effect it would have upon British influence in Europe if, at such a moment, England did not show herself as good as her word. On receipt of this despatch, George III. no longer hesitated and took the vigorous measures he ought to have taken long before; his own honour and the honour of England alike demanded that the Queen should not be abandoned to her fate. He commanded Keith to inform the Danish Government that, unless they at once agreed to deliver the Queen to his keeping, the English minister would present his letters of recall, a state of war would be declared between England and Denmark, and a fleet would be despatched to bombard Copenhagen. And, in order to follow up his words with action, orders were sent to the Admiralty for the fitting out of a strong fleet, and though no directions were given as to where it was to sail, it was universally thought to be destined for Denmark. The Danish envoy in London thought so too, for he wrote to Copenhagen in great alarm. He said that the King of England was really roused at last, he referred to his well-known obstinacy, and urged the Danish Government to yield to his demands.

In England the fate of the Queen of Denmark,which for so many months had hung in the balance, was followed with close attention, and when rumours came of the fitting out of the fleet, the public excitement was wrought to the highest pitch. The Opposition, which had first championed the cause of Matilda with more zeal than discretion, now turned against her, and denounced the Government in the strongest terms for bringing about a war between two friendly nations for a worthless woman. The vilest pamphlets suddenly flooded the streets. To quote a journal of the day: “Yesterday, in some parts of the city, men were crying about printed papers, containing the most scandalous rumours, and impudent reflections on the Queen of Denmark. The worst prostitute that ever Covent Garden produced could not have had more gross abuse bestowed on her.”[63]

[63]General Evening Post, April 30, 1772.

[63]General Evening Post, April 30, 1772.

Fortunately, for all concerned, the crisis was averted. When Keith, on receipt of the King of England’s orders, presented himself at the Christiansborg Palace and delivered his ultimatum, panic struck the hearts of the Queen-Dowager and her adherents, and this panic was heightened by the news, conveyed to them by the Danish envoy in London, that a fleet was fitted out and ready to sail. The Queen-Dowager did not yield her victim without a struggle, she hated Matilda more than Struensee and all his accomplices put together, but she was overborne by the remonstrances of the rest, who knew that to precipitate a conflict with England at this juncture would assuredly prove their ruin. Whatever theissue of the struggle (and there was not much doubt about that), the Danish people would never forgive the Government for involving them in a ruinous war on such a pretext. Moreover, there was a revulsion of feeling in favour of the young Queen, and, since the death of Struensee, sympathy with her had been gaining ground daily. It really would be safer, urged some, to get her out of the country than to keep her shut up at Aalborg, for her adherents would always be plotting to obtain her release. These considerations weighed even with Juliana Maria, and made her see virtue in necessity. Keith, who had noted these signs of weakness and divided counsels, pushed his advantage, and with such success that he gained every point, and more than every point, that George III. demanded. Not only did the Danish Government agree to deliver Matilda to the King of England’s keeping, but they further promised that the sentence of divorce should not be officially published, that they would do all they could to hush up the scandal, that she should be permitted to retain her title of Queen, and that they would pay a yearly allowance towards her maintenance in another country. The Queen was not only to be set free, but to be set free with honour. On only one point they would not yield: they would not allow her to say good-bye to her son, or to take her daughter with her. By the finding of the judges the Princess was the King of Denmark’s child, and therefore he was her proper guardian.

As Keith had no instructions on this point, hewas powerless to insist upon it; but it was with a glad heart that he sat down to write his despatch, which informed his King that every point had been gained—that his demands had been complied with, and war would be averted.

The English Government received Keith’s despatch with a great sense of relief. The King, now his blood was up, would undoubtedly have insisted upon the fleet sailing, and many complications would have ensued. The Government were by no means sure that they would have the nation at their back in declaring war on such a pretext. The whole story of the Queen of Denmark’s errors would have become common property; the King of Prussia, who was in close alliance with Denmark, and whose Queen was the sister of Juliana Maria, would probably have marched an army into Hanover if Copenhagen had been bombarded, and a new war would have been kindled in the north of Europe. Therefore, both the King and the Government had every reason to congratulate themselves that these difficulties had been avoided, and it was resolved to promote Keith as a reward for the successful way in which he had conducted the negotiations. Lord Suffolk wrote to Keith the following despatches:—

“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.“Sir,“Your despatches by King the messenger have already been acknowledged; those by Pearson were received on Wednesday afternoon, and I now answer both together.“His Majesty’s entire approbation of your conduct continues to the last moment of your success, and his satisfaction has in no part of it been more complete than in the manner in which you have stated, urged and obtained the liberty of his sister, and the care you have taken to distinguish between a claim of right and the subjects of negotiation, and to prevent the mixture of stipulations with a demand is perfectly agreeable with your instructions.“The national object of procuring the liberty of a daughter of England confined in Denmark after her connection with Denmark was dissolved is now obtained. For this alone an armament was prepared, and therefore, as soon as the acquiescence of the court of Copenhagen was known, the preparations were suspended, that the mercantile and marine interests of this kingdom might be affected no longer than was necessary by the expectation of a war.“Instead of a hostile armament, two frigates and a sloop of war are now ordered to Elsinore. One of them is already in the Downs—the others will repair thither immediately: and, as soon as wind permits, they will proceed to their destination. I enclose to you an account of them, which you may transfer to Monsieur Ostein [Count Osten] ministerially, referring at the same time to the assurance of these pacific proceedings.“The compliance of the Danish court with his Majesty’s demand, however forced, is still a compliance. Their continuing, unasked, the style of Queen and other concessions, and the attainment of the national object, accompanying each other, hisMajesty would think it improper to interrupt the national intercourse from any personal or domestic consideration. You will therefore inform Monsieur Ostein that his Majesty intends to have a minister at the court of Copenhagen, the explanation you may give of this suspension of former directions and his determinations being left to your own discretion.“You will not be that minister. His Majesty will have occasion for your services in a more eligible situation, and, as soon as you have discharged your duty to the Queen of Denmark by attending her to Stade, you will return home, either on board his Majesty’s ship which conveyed you thither, or, if the passage by sea is disagreeable to you, by land, with the least possible delay.“I am, with great truth and regard, Sir,“Your most obedient and humble servant,“Suffolk.”[64]

“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.

“Sir,

“Your despatches by King the messenger have already been acknowledged; those by Pearson were received on Wednesday afternoon, and I now answer both together.

“His Majesty’s entire approbation of your conduct continues to the last moment of your success, and his satisfaction has in no part of it been more complete than in the manner in which you have stated, urged and obtained the liberty of his sister, and the care you have taken to distinguish between a claim of right and the subjects of negotiation, and to prevent the mixture of stipulations with a demand is perfectly agreeable with your instructions.

“The national object of procuring the liberty of a daughter of England confined in Denmark after her connection with Denmark was dissolved is now obtained. For this alone an armament was prepared, and therefore, as soon as the acquiescence of the court of Copenhagen was known, the preparations were suspended, that the mercantile and marine interests of this kingdom might be affected no longer than was necessary by the expectation of a war.

“Instead of a hostile armament, two frigates and a sloop of war are now ordered to Elsinore. One of them is already in the Downs—the others will repair thither immediately: and, as soon as wind permits, they will proceed to their destination. I enclose to you an account of them, which you may transfer to Monsieur Ostein [Count Osten] ministerially, referring at the same time to the assurance of these pacific proceedings.

“The compliance of the Danish court with his Majesty’s demand, however forced, is still a compliance. Their continuing, unasked, the style of Queen and other concessions, and the attainment of the national object, accompanying each other, hisMajesty would think it improper to interrupt the national intercourse from any personal or domestic consideration. You will therefore inform Monsieur Ostein that his Majesty intends to have a minister at the court of Copenhagen, the explanation you may give of this suspension of former directions and his determinations being left to your own discretion.

“You will not be that minister. His Majesty will have occasion for your services in a more eligible situation, and, as soon as you have discharged your duty to the Queen of Denmark by attending her to Stade, you will return home, either on board his Majesty’s ship which conveyed you thither, or, if the passage by sea is disagreeable to you, by land, with the least possible delay.

“I am, with great truth and regard, Sir,

“Your most obedient and humble servant,

“Suffolk.”[64]

[64]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

[64]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.“For your own information, I enclose a list of the ships which were intended to enforce the demand for the Queen of Denmark’s liberty, if it had been refused. Those from Plymouth would have been sailed if the countermand had been a few hours later than it was. The others were just ready to proceed to the Downs, and the whole fleet would probably have by this time been on their way to Copenhagen, under the command of Sir Charles Hardy.“I am, etc.,“Suffolk.”[65]

“St. James’s,May 1, 1772.

“For your own information, I enclose a list of the ships which were intended to enforce the demand for the Queen of Denmark’s liberty, if it had been refused. Those from Plymouth would have been sailed if the countermand had been a few hours later than it was. The others were just ready to proceed to the Downs, and the whole fleet would probably have by this time been on their way to Copenhagen, under the command of Sir Charles Hardy.

“I am, etc.,

“Suffolk.”[65]

[65]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

[65]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

The public curiosity in London, which had been keenly aroused by the news that a fleet was being hastily fitted out for the Baltic, was no less excited when the preparations were suddenly stopped by a counter-order, sent to Portsmouth on April 22. Though no official information was vouchsafed, people shrewdly guessed the truth. Horace Walpole gives a fair idea of the gossip which was floating about London:—

“The King, as Lord Hertford told me, had certainly ordered the fleet to sail; and a near relation of Lord North told me that the latter had not been acquainted with that intention. Lord Mansfield, therefore, who had now got the King’s ear, or Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, must have been consulted. The latter, though I should think he would not approve of it, was capable of flattering the King’s wishes; Lord Mansfield assuredly would. The destination was changed on the arrival of a courier from Denmark, who brought word that the Queen was repudiated, and, I suppose, a promise that her life would be spared, for though the Danes had thirty ships and the best seamen next to ours, and though we were sending but ten ships against them, the governing party were alarmed, probably from not being sure that their nation was with them.”[66]

“The King, as Lord Hertford told me, had certainly ordered the fleet to sail; and a near relation of Lord North told me that the latter had not been acquainted with that intention. Lord Mansfield, therefore, who had now got the King’s ear, or Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, must have been consulted. The latter, though I should think he would not approve of it, was capable of flattering the King’s wishes; Lord Mansfield assuredly would. The destination was changed on the arrival of a courier from Denmark, who brought word that the Queen was repudiated, and, I suppose, a promise that her life would be spared, for though the Danes had thirty ships and the best seamen next to ours, and though we were sending but ten ships against them, the governing party were alarmed, probably from not being sure that their nation was with them.”[66]

[66]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III.

[66]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III.

Again: “They gave her [the Queen of Denmark] the title of Countess of Aalborg, and condemned her to be shut up in the castle of that name. The King of England had certainly known her storytwo years before; a clerk in the secretary’s office, having opened a letter that came with the account,[67]told me he had seen it before the secretary gave it to the King. It was now believed that this intelligence had occasioned the Princess of Wales to make an extraordinary journey to Germany, where she saw her daughter, though to no purpose. Princess Amelia told Lord Hertford on the 26th [April] ... that Queen Matilda had a very high spirit, and that she believed the Danes would consent to let her go to Hanover. ‘But she will not be let go thither,’ added the Princess, meaning that the Queen’s brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, commanded there, ‘or to Zell, but she will not go thither’ [another of the Queen’s brothers was there]; ‘perhaps shemaygo to Lüneburg.’”[68]

Again: “They gave her [the Queen of Denmark] the title of Countess of Aalborg, and condemned her to be shut up in the castle of that name. The King of England had certainly known her storytwo years before; a clerk in the secretary’s office, having opened a letter that came with the account,[67]told me he had seen it before the secretary gave it to the King. It was now believed that this intelligence had occasioned the Princess of Wales to make an extraordinary journey to Germany, where she saw her daughter, though to no purpose. Princess Amelia told Lord Hertford on the 26th [April] ... that Queen Matilda had a very high spirit, and that she believed the Danes would consent to let her go to Hanover. ‘But she will not be let go thither,’ added the Princess, meaning that the Queen’s brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, commanded there, ‘or to Zell, but she will not go thither’ [another of the Queen’s brothers was there]; ‘perhaps shemaygo to Lüneburg.’”[68]

[67]The account of the Queen’s alleged intrigue with Struensee.

[67]The account of the Queen’s alleged intrigue with Struensee.

[68]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III., vol. i.

[68]Walpole,Journals of the Reign of George III., vol. i.

Queen Matilda’s destination had been determined by her brother before her release was assured. Matilda had herself petitioned that she might be allowed to return to England, and live the rest of her life among her own people; but this natural request was refused. The King at first was inclined to grant it, and, if the Princess-Dowager of Wales had been alive, no doubt it would have been granted. But Queen Charlotte, who had always shown the greatest jealousy of the King’s sisters, and had quarrelled fiercely with the Princess of Brunswick, displayed the bitterest animus against the unfortunate Matilda, who surely could have given her nocause of offence, for she had left England when a child of fifteen. It is probable that the King’s harsh judgment of his sister, and his slowness to intervene on her behalf, were instigated by Queen Charlotte, who now shrilly opposed the idea of Matilda returning to England. Her rigid virtue rose in arms at the bare suggestion of such a thing; she declared that she would not receive her sister-in-law; that her presence at court would be an insult; that she would contaminate the young princesses, her daughters, and be to them a bad example. Queen Charlotte had her way, for the King did not venture to stand up against the tempest of her virtuous indignation. He then thought of sending his sister to Hanover; there were three empty palaces there, and his Hanoverian subjects would be sure to receive her kindly. But Queen Charlotte opposed that too: Hanover was too gay a place, she said, for one who ought to hide her head from all the world; and at her instigation her brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, who commanded there, raised objections also. The idea of sending Matilda to Lüneburg was out of the question, for there was no house there, and it was too near the frontier of Denmark. So at last the King decided upon Celle as the most suitable place for his sister to find a refuge. True, Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz commanded the garrison, another of the Queen’s brothers (Queen Charlotte provided for all her needy relatives at the expense of her adopted country), but he was young and unmarried, and offered no objection. On the contrary,he looked forward to the advent of the Queen as a break in the monotony of Celle. To Celle, therefore, it was determined she should go.

Celle was an old town in the King’s Hanoverian dominions, about twenty miles north of Hanover. It was formerly the capital of the Dukes of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and the town was dominated by the magnificent castle where they formerly held their court.[69]The last Duke of Celle was George William, brother of Ernest Augustus, first Elector of Hanover and the father of George I. of England. George I., then the Hereditary Prince of Hanover, married his cousin, the only daughter of the Duke of Celle, the unfortunate Sophie Dorothea. At Duke George William’s death he became, through his marriage, possessed of the dukedom of Celle, which was merged into the electorate of Hanover. Since the death of Duke George William in 1705, there had no longer been a court at Celle, and the importance of the town had waned, while that of its rival, Hanover, had increased, though Celle still remained a seat of justice, and a garrison was quartered there. The castle as a place of residence needed many things to make it habitable. George III. now gave orders that it was to be thoroughly repaired, and a suite of apartments re-decorated and furnished for his sister, and rooms prepared for the accommodation of her household.

[69]The ancestors of the royal families of England, Germany (Prussia) and Hanover all lived at Celle.

[69]The ancestors of the royal families of England, Germany (Prussia) and Hanover all lived at Celle.

Keith carried to the imprisoned Queen thetidings of her deliverance early in May. It was with feelings of triumph and gladness that he hastened to Kronborg to inform her of his success, and the King of England’s plans for her future welfare. As he wrote to his sister: “To demand the liberty of a captive Queen, and to escort her to a land of freedom is truly such a commencement of my chivalry as savours strongly of the romantic. You will easily judge of the warmth of your brother’s zeal in the execution of a commission so well adapted to his genius. Can you figure to yourself what he must have felt in passing through the vaulted entrance of Hamlet’s castle to carry to an afflicted and injured princess these welcome proofs of fraternal affection and liberty restored?”[70]His emotion was reciprocated, for, when Keith came into the Queen’s chamber and told her the glad news, she burst into grateful tears, embraced him, and called him her deliverer. The gallant soldier could have had no better reward.

[70]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

[70]Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.

It was Keith’s duty and pleasure now to inform the Queen that she was no longer to consider herself a prisoner, but was merely residing in the King of Denmark’s palace of Kronborg until such time as the English squadron should arrive to escort her to her brother’s Hanoverian dominions with every mark of honour and respect. He also told her of the other concessions he had obtained for her; he had wrung almost everything from her enemies except a proclamation of her innocence. On this delicatesubject the Queen is stated to have said that she found some consolation in the thought that time would clear her character. “I am young; I may, therefore, perhaps live," said she, “to see Denmark disabused with respect to my conduct; whereas my poor mother, one of the best women that ever lived, died while the load of obloquy was heavy upon her, and went to her grave without the pleasure of a vindicated character.”[71]Throughout her imprisonment at Kronborg Matilda had worn black—“in mourning,” she said, “for her murdered reputation”.

[71]General Evening Post, May 14, 1772.

[71]General Evening Post, May 14, 1772.

Though Keith brought to Matilda the news of her deliverance early in May, it was not until the end of that month that the Queen left Kronborg. During that time she saw the English envoy almost every day, though he, too, like herself, was making preparations for departure. She was no longer treated as a prisoner, but rendered all the honour due to her rank, and she was free to wander within the outer walls of the fortress as she pleased—a very large space. The Queen’s favourite walk was on the ramparts in front of the castle, where she would often pace for hours together, straining her eyes across the grey waters of the sea to catch the first glimpse of the British squadron which was to take her away from Denmark. She declared that until she beheld the British flag she would not feel herself safe. The Queen-Dowager was now quite as anxious toget Matilda out of Denmark as she was to go, and to this end agreed to almost everything suggested by Keith, and in some respects even went beyond his suggestions. Matilda had a great many jewels, which were not the property of the Danish crown, but her own. Some of them she had brought with her from England; others had been given her by the King, her husband; some she had purchased with her own money. All of these had been seized by Juliana Maria, together with the Queen’s clothes and her personal possessions. When Matilda was first sent to Kronborg she had little or nothing beyond the clothes she wore, but little by little, grudgingly, things had been sent her. Now the Queen-Dowager volunteered to send Matilda the jewels which King Christian had given her; but the wronged wife rejected the offer with disdain. She would take no favour she said; she wished to have nothing to remind her of the husband who had repudiated her, or the country which had treated her so cruelly; as a British princess she would retain none of the trappings of her Danish slavery. The question formed a subject of despatches, and Lord Suffolk wrote to Keith as follows: “His Majesty does not see any objection to his sister receiving the jewels you mention, which were formerly given, and are now intended to be delivered to her. Her Danish Majesty will thereby only retain a property, not accept a present. There seems no occasion for rejecting the attention voluntarily offered; but, if the Queen of Denmark is very averse from theproposition, his Majesty does not wish to control her inclination.” The Queenwasvery averse, and so the offer was rejected. But Matilda requested that her personal trinkets which she had brought from England, and her books, clothing and other things, left scattered about in the King of Denmark’s palaces, should be packed up and sent to her new home at Celle. We shall see how that order was carried out later.

On May 27 the Queen’s longing eyes were gladdened by the sight of the English squadron rounding the point off Elsinore. The Queen was at dinner when the guns at Kronborg saluted and the English ships answered back. She immediately ran out on the ramparts, and wept with joy at the sight of the British flag. Yet it was with mingled feelings that she beheld it, for the vessels which were to carry her away to liberty were also to carry her away from the child whom she dearly loved. The squadron consisted of theSouthampton(Captain Macbride), theSeaford(Captain Davis), and theCruiser(Captain Cummings). Keith, who had now said good-bye to Copenhagen to his great satisfaction, and had handed over the affairs of the legation to his secretary, was at Kronborg when the ships anchored off Elsinore. He at once went down to the harbour to meet Captain Macbride, and conduct him to the castle to have audience of the Queen.

A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.From the Drawing by C. F. Christensen.

A VIEW OF ELSINORE, SHOWING THE CASTLE OF KRONBORG.From the Drawing by C. F. Christensen.

The Queen received Captain Macbride very graciously, and conversed with him a few minutes.When he asked her when it would please her to sail, she exclaimed: “Ah, my dear children!” and, putting her hands to her face, abruptly quitted the room. Later she sent Captain Macbride a message, asking him to forgive her emotion, and appointing two days later, May 30, as the date of her departure.

When it was known that the British squadron was anchored off Elsinore, great excitement prevailed at the Danish court. By way of speeding the parting guest, perhaps also to spy upon her, a deputation of noblemen was sent from Copenhagen by the Queen-Dowager to formally wait upon Matilda and wish her a pleasant voyage. Queen Matilda received the deputation with quiet dignity, and said the day would come when the King would know that he had been betrayed and deceived, but, for herself, she henceforth lived only for her children.

On the day appointed by the Queen for her departure, a lady from the Danish court arrived at Kronborg in one of the royal coaches, with an escort, to take charge of the Princess Louise Augusta. The Queen was agonised at parting from the infant, who had been her sole consolation in the dreary months of her captivity, and whom she had nursed at the breast. She even thought her liberty purchased at too dear a price. The hope that this child would be allowed to remain with her had been one of the inducements which led her to sign the damning paper called her confession. It must have been a bitter thought to her that she had signed away her honour invain, and the babe for whom she made this supreme sacrifice was to be torn from her arms. For a long time the Queen held her child to her breast, and wept over it, showering on it caresses and endearing words. The lady who had come to take charge of the infant, and all who witnessed the parting, were hardly less affected; but the scene could not be prolonged for ever. Pleadings and remonstrances were unavailing, and the women had almost to use force to take the little princess from her mother’s arms. At last the heart-broken Queen yielded her infant, and cried wildly, “Let me away, for I now possess nothing here!”

By this time it was six o’clock in the evening. Everything was ready for the Queen’s departure, and Captain Macbride and Sir Robert Keith had been waiting at the castle all the afternoon to escort the Queen on board. At last she was ready to leave. It was arranged that the Queen should be attended as far as Stade by Count and Countess Holstein, Fräulein Mösting and a page. Of her other Danish attendants the Queen now took farewell, and many of them were moved to tears. She also bade adieu to the commandant of Kronborg and his wife, and exonerated them from all blame for the deprivations she had suffered. She thanked the commandant for what he had done directly he was allowed to ameliorate the rigours of her captivity; to his wife she gave a gold snuff-box as a souvenir. Nor did she forget the poor prisoners, for whom she left a sum of money. Though she came to Kronborg aprisoner she left it as a Queen, and a Queen to whom full honours were paid. The guard presented arms and an escort was drawn up in the courtyard; the Queen descended the stone stairs up which she had been hurried five months before, and entered her coach. The commandant accompanied her to the outermost gate of the fortress, where he took his leave. Thence it was only a few yards to the harbour, where a Danish royal barge was waiting to row the Queen out to the English squadron.

Immediately the Queen and her suite stepped on board H.M.S.Southamptonthe royal standard of England was unfurled, and the cannon of Kronborg and of the Danish guardship in the Sound fired a salute of twenty-one guns. The anchors were weighed immediately, and the little English squadron set sail up the Cattegat, for it was decided to go round Jutland, and so avoid Copenhagen. It was a fine summer’s night, and the Queen remained on deck, her eyes fixed on the vanishing fortress (her child was to remain there until the morrow, when she was to be taken to Copenhagen); nor could she be persuaded to go below until darkness intercepted her view. As there was little wind during the night the vessels made small headway. At the first break of dawn the Queen was on deck again, and to her satisfaction found that she could still catch a glimpse of the towers of Kronborg, which she watched until they faded from her view.

Owing to contrary winds the voyage to Stadetook several days. The Queen is said to have beguiled her voyage by writing a long poem beginning:—

At length from sceptred care and deadly state,From galling censure and ill-omened hate,From the vain grandeur where I lately shone,From Kronborg’s prison and from Denmark’s throneI go.[72]

At length from sceptred care and deadly state,From galling censure and ill-omened hate,From the vain grandeur where I lately shone,From Kronborg’s prison and from Denmark’s throneI go.[72]

At length from sceptred care and deadly state,From galling censure and ill-omened hate,From the vain grandeur where I lately shone,From Kronborg’s prison and from Denmark’s throneI go.[72]

At length from sceptred care and deadly state,

From galling censure and ill-omened hate,

From the vain grandeur where I lately shone,

From Kronborg’s prison and from Denmark’s throne

I go.[72]

[72]This poem was found among Sir R. M. Keith’s papers after his death, headed: “Written at sea by the Queen of Denmark on her passage to Stade, 1772.” But the writing was not that of the Queen, and, as Matilda had no gift for literary composition, it is doubtful whether it is genuine. I therefore only quote the first five lines.

[72]This poem was found among Sir R. M. Keith’s papers after his death, headed: “Written at sea by the Queen of Denmark on her passage to Stade, 1772.” But the writing was not that of the Queen, and, as Matilda had no gift for literary composition, it is doubtful whether it is genuine. I therefore only quote the first five lines.

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