LIFE AND TIMES
OF
HER MAJESTY
CAROLINE MATILDA.

QUEEN OF DENMARK AND NORWAY,

AND

SISTER OF H. M. GEORGE III. OF ENGLAND,

FROM FAMILY DOCUMENTS AND PRIVATE STATE ARCHIVES.

BY

Sir C. F. LASCELLES WRAXALL, Bart.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:
Wm. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
1864.

[All Rights reserved.]

LEWIS AND SON, PRINTERS, SWAN BUILDINGS, MOORGATE STREET.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

——♦——

LIFE AND TIMES
OF
CAROLINE MATILDA.

CHAPTER I.

When Brandt had got rid so cleverly of his oppressive duties in constantly attending on the king, it might have been supposed that he would have nothing to trouble his mind henceforth, but would take the goods the gods provided him in a happy frame of mind. But Brandt had one of those private skeletons which are said to be in every house, and his took the shape of an anonymous letter in French, which was sent to him early in July. Although the writer had disguised his hand, he had taken no great trouble to remain unknown, as the seal bore the initial letters of his name, and in the letter itself there were plenty of allusions to enable Brandt to guess the writer. This was Conferenz-rath Braëm, deputy of the College of the Generalty.

Sir[1],

Perhaps you may wonder to receive a letter without a name on a matter of so great importance, from a friend who formerly used to tell you the truth before your face: but the times we live in now will not justify a man in exposing himself to danger, without seeing any good arising from it.

The two last court days I sought for an opportunity at Hirschholm to speak a few words to you in private, but I found it was impossible. You might have observed that if you had been at all attentive: but I found you so much engaged with another object that I could not approach near enough to you to make you understand what I wanted, and I thought it inadvisable to go to Hirschholm on purpose to pay you a visit.

Once, sir, you showed that you had the honour of your master at heart.[2] It was then asserted that neither zeal nor attachment was the mainspring of your actions, but ambition and interest, because you hoped that if you could bring Count Holck into disgrace, you might succeed him in the favour and honour he enjoyed. However, the bulk of the people thought your intentions noble and without self-interest. Perhaps the immediate consequences of this transaction have made so great an impression on you, that you think you dare not venture on such another. And yet the final issue of the affair has shown, that even your ill-success in it has been more advantageous than detrimental to you. Therefore, sir, do not think that this was the mere effect of accident, but rather that a higher hand has guided this matter. I do not know what your notions of God may be, or whether you believe in a God at all, or in a mere stoical fate. It would be very superfluous to discuss a matter of so great importance here. The time will come, when experience will teach you that there is a God, who sees and knows everything, who either early or late rewards virtue and punishes vice.

My intention is not at present to make you a Christian. It is only to remind you of your duty—that duty by which even an honest heathen thought himself bound toward his king, his country, himself, and his family. The heathen even demanded this of every subject and of every man who laid any claim to honour.

You see, sir, in what manner your king and benefactor is used. You see the indecent things that are done before his eyes, and in which you, yourself, are so much concerned. You see that in the whole kingdom everything is turned upside down. Consider, sir, and recover your senses, and you will not be at a loss how to act. If it be true (and it is but too true) that the life of the king is in danger, or at least that preparations are being made to take away his liberty, you certainly must know it. The sense of the nation on this head cannot be unknown to you, and that one time or another you will have to account for the life and liberty of your sovereign. You, sir, since you are constantly with him, and since you see and know everybody, be assured that your head will be answerable for it either sooner or later. Think of your own safety, I conjure you by the friendship I entertain for you. It is in your power to do it. You see plainly from the king's desire to avoid the place and company in which he is ill-used, and from his aversion to return to it, that he is sensible of the ill-treatment. Some day the king will deliver himself from you, or good fortune will rid him of you, and what will then be your fate? Would it not be best for you to save your head and do your duty at the same time? To build your happiness on a solid and noble foundation, which you will then owe to your zeal, your faithfulness and attachment to your king, who will reward you with riches and honour; and the nation will not think even this an equivalent for your services. You and your present welfare depend on the caprice of a wretch who will abandon you as soon as he is above your assistance. At present he makes the same use of you as the monkey did of the cat, and I fancy you have found this out more than once, if you will not impose on yourself.

If the king should come to town, I advise you to act in the following manner: Prevail on him to go to the palace, and persuade him to call for one or two of his faithful servants, in order to consult on the best way of proceeding. It is unfortunate enough that the number of these faithful servants is so small, and reduced, perhaps, to one or two persons; for the best and cleverest men have been carefully removed. You will easily guess who these persons are, without my naming them. Perseverance, honesty, and experience, are characteristics by which you can know them. I could name them, but would avoid the least suspicion of self-interest. However, I must tell you that it must be neither Rantzau nor Gähler, for both are detested by the nation in an equal degree. You will forfeit your head if you do not follow this advice, which I give you as a friend, and a faithful servant of the king. If you do not heed it, but neglect your duty toward your king and benefactor, you may be sure it will cost you your life, your honour, and everything that is dearest to an honest man; and, moreover, no one will pity you. If, on the other hand, you do what your duty requires, and save your king from those wicked hands into which he has fallen, you may be sure that there is no honour or prosperity to which you will not be entitled, and this with the consent of the king, and all his faithful subjects.

Perhaps you will think proper to show this letter to your friend Struensee, in order to give him a proof of your fidelity at the expense of those obligations which you have sworn to your king, and to induce him to grant new favours to the husband of Countess von Holstein; and perhaps he might do so, in order to deceive you, and keep you in his interest. But I assure you that when they have deposed the king, you will be wretched, and perhaps the guilt will fall on you.

I repeat again, that your head shall answer for the safety of the king. You are continually about him. You accompany him; you are entrusted with his person; and lest you may plead ignorance, I assure you on my honour, that in such a case a copy of this letter shall be produced against you, at the proper time and place. And for fear you should mistake in this respect, I desire you to notice the seal of this letter, which contains the initial letters of my name, and which will also be produced against you.

The life and health of the king, together with the welfare of the kingdom, are in your hands: act in such a manner as you can answer for before your fellow-citizens. I do not say before God, for I do not know what your idea of God may be; though I have reason to think, from what you told me once in your apartments at Christiansborg, and afterwards at Hirschholm, that your notions are not altogether what they should be.

You see I am not afraid of your guessing who I am, and I assure you, that if you act in the way I expect from your birth, you will find me to be your faithful and devoted servant.

   July 8, 1771.

It had always been hitherto assumed as an historical fact that the Copenhagen Palace Revolution was concocted only a few days before the catastrophe of January 17, 1771, by the Queen Juliana Maria; but it is sufficiently evident, from the above anonymous letter, that six months previously a plot existed among men of position, to overthrow Struensee at any cost, and they seem even to have uttered the blood sentence, which condemned their victim to death and ruin. The threatening letter does not appear to have produced the intended effect on Brandt; but he became very serious, concealed the contents of the letter even from Struensee, and carefully kept it in his pocket-book. As he gradually became more and more melancholy, he lost the king's favour to the same extent.

With what boldness the conspirators dared to act, even at this period, is evidenced by the numerous threatening and abusive documents which were sent to the cabinet minister's house, placarded on the walls of the palace and the theatre, and even thrown into the Hirschholm garden. As a specimen of the tone and contents of them, we may here reproduce a placard, supposed to have been composed by Brandt's father-in-law, Conferenz-rath Lüxdorph, which was found one morning posted up in the principal street of the capital.[3] The literal translation is to the following effect:—

"As the traitor Struensee continues to ill-treat the beloved king, to mock his faithful subjects, and to daily seize, with force and injustice, more and more of the royal authority which the subjects have entrusted to the king, the before-mentioned Struensee and his adherents are hereby declared free as birds (outlawed), and the man who puffs out this treacherous soul, shall receive as reward 5,000 dollars, his name be kept secret, and in any case a royal pardon be granted him."

The dissatisfaction of the people of Copenhagen, which was partially justified, being fanned in this way, began, ere long, to display itself actively.

The bomb-ketches intended to be sent against Algiers were not yet finished, and the sailors brought from Norway to man them roamed about the capital in idleness; moreover, the government neglected to pay them. The political creed of the Norwegians at that time was composed of two dogmas:—first, that the king is never unjust; secondly, that the king must be blindly obeyed, provided that the order emanate from him. The corollary was, that acts of injustice were committed by the king's subordinates, and that by application to their master redress was certain.[4]

As early as June 10 many ship-carpenters had struck work, after in vain asking double wages for working on Sunday, which was considered necessary to get the fleet off. Two days after this event, a squadron of dragoons was posted in front of Hirschholm Palace; but, as no further excesses occurred, this picket was removed toward the end of July. On September 10, however, a band of from two hundred to three hundred sailors set out for Hirschholm; they had been waiting eight weeks for their pay, were almost starving, and had sent in repeated petitions, to which no answer was returned. As they now saw that no relief was to be obtained in this way, they formed the bold resolution of laying their request before the king personally.

When they arrived in the vicinity of the palace, a naval officer went to ask them what they wanted? "We wish to speak to our father," was the reply; "he shall hear us, and help us." The aide-de-camp hastened with this message back to the palace, but the whole court had already fled by a back-door to the estate of Sophienberg, about two miles distant. Here the question was discussed between the queen, Struensee, Brandt, Falckenskjold, and Bülow, whether the flight should be continued to Elsinore. At this moment the sailors arrived here, and demanded speech with the king. They were answered that the king was out hunting, but the intruders did not believe it, and were preparing to force their way into the palace, when Colonel Numsen came up with a troop of dragoons and tried to drive them back. The sailors laid their hands on their knives, and declared they would defend themselves if the soldiers attacked them. Fortunately, some firmer and wiser gentlemen represented that the men did not look like insurrectionists, and that by signifying to them from the king through a naval aide-de-camp that they must return and justice would be dealt them, an odious and sanguinary scene, perhaps a real sedition, would be avoided. On the pledge of the aide-de-camp the sailors went back to Copenhagen as peacefully as they had come, and the court returned to the summer residence. Still, the alarm the sailors had caused lasted all night, because everybody felt persuaded that they would return furious and better armed.

The queen ordered that her horses should be kept in readiness; she went to bed bare-headed and in disorder, had her riding-habit laid in readiness by her side, and a moment after rose hurriedly to have her jewellery packed up. She also requested a colonel, in whom she placed confidence, to sleep at the palace. The dragoons, however, who patrolled all night, discovered nothing, and so the court became calm, and did their best to hide the fright they had suffered.

Struensee gave way; the sailors on their arrival in Copenhagen were treated with spirits, and temporarily appeased by a payment on account, while the whole arrears were paid up a few days later. The chief of the naval division, however, to which they belonged, Herr von Rumohr, was dismissed the service, on the charge of not having attempted to quell the tumult.

The bad example which the Norwegian sailors had given, and the fact that they were not punished for it, soon induced other men to bring forward less just claims in a similar way. A fortnight later, some one hundred and twenty silk weavers proceeded from Copenhagen to Hirschholm to complain that they were starving, because the royal silk factories had been closed. This request was also taken into consideration by the alarmed court, and an order was issued to continue the work in the factories till the men obtained other employment. As these demonstrations, however, raised apprehension of others, from this time guards were posted round the palace, the manège, and the palace gardens, by Falckenskjold's advice, which naturally led to many bitter comments.

But the greatest fear was entertained at court about the dockyard-men, who were known to be still angry at their exclusion from the king's birthday rejoicings, and the loss of their perquisites. In addition to the sailors obtained expressly from Norway, there were generally five thousand more in Copenhagen, divided into five detachments, of ten companies each; some were intended to man the ships, while others were employed as carpenters, caulkers, and labourers of every description in the navy dockyards. These men were also dissatisfied with the new regulations introduced in the yards, as in every other department, and it was consequently resolved to give them a "festival of reconciliation," for which September 29 was selected. When the day arrived, all the dockyard-men went in procession, with their wives and children, to the riding-school of Frederiksberg Palace, where they were to be regaled in the open air. Of course a roast ox again formed the staple dish; but as it was not sufficient to fill all the empty stomachs, six sheep, twelve pigs, and an infinity of geese, ducks, and fowls, were also roasted and distributed. To wash this food down, upwards of thirty tuns of beer, and a quart of rum per man, were distributed. Any one who liked to smoke received a charged pipe, and all were paid their wages as for an ordinary working-day. Dancing and music concluded the festival.

Struensee, in his abject terror, had not duly reflected how uncertain is the permanent effect of popular demonstrations, or to what remarks they give rise. But the mistake led to even more ugly consequences. It had not only been announced that the court would be present at the festival, but the diplomatic corps, and all the dignitaries of the state, had been invited as well. Fifty men of the flying corps of guards were to form the king's escort, and had been told off, when a rumour reached the court that a design on the favourite's life would be carried out at the feast of the roast ox. In the terrible confusion which this rumour caused at Hirschholm, the advice of the experienced Falckenskjold was demanded. Struensee was afraid of being murdered, and said in Brandt's presence to Falckenskjold, that the fate of Concini might be hanging over him. The colonel advised him to mix among the populace at the festival, and display an undaunted demeanour, but took advantage of the opportunity to urge him to be more cautious, and not to arouse his enemies further. He told him that the dissatisfaction with his government was now extending to his friends, and reminded him of the fate of Counts Corfix Ulfeld and Griffenfeldt, whom the court had been compelled to sacrifice to their enemies.

"Such is the fate," Struensee's best friend concluded his far-sighted warnings, "by which you are also threatened, and, if they can, they will drag you to the scaffold. So, at any rate, take care that your papers are in order."

"My papers are arranged," Struensee coldly answered him; "from that side I have nothing to fear, if they will only behave fairly in other respects."

Brandt joined in Falckenskjold's warnings, and urged Struensee not to be so obstinate, but to give way, and yield to circumstances.

"No!" Struensee answered him, with considerable violence; "no! I will give up nothing of what, according to my conviction, promotes the welfare of the state."

"The time will come," Brandt said, prophetically, "when we shall be compelled to give way."

Struensee retired silently to his cabinet. But, a few minutes after, Falckenskjold received a note from him, in which he asked whether he could be present at the festival without risk. Falckenskjold answered him, that he was able to stay away if he felt afraid.[5]

Neither Struensee nor their Majesties appeared at the festival of the roast ox: the preparations for their reception proved a farce. The proceedings passed off tranquilly, with the exception that some of the sailors remarked that it was not the ox that had been promised them—in allusion to Struensee's corpulence. The citizens were very much annoyed at not having been shown their king, whom they were growing accustomed to talk about as an automaton. They were even more indignant when they learned that fear had retained their Majesties at Hirschholm, and this distrust with which the king was inspired against his subjects was a fresh crime with which the favourites were accused. But though it is certain that the king had nothing to fear, it is equally certain that he had not been inspired either with fear or distrust; in the whole affair he was passive and indifferent.[6]

There can be little doubt but that Struensee was quite right in staying away from the festival of September 29, for there was a regular conspiracy; it was formed under the auspices of Juliana Maria, and managed by the head man of the caulkers, Captain Winterfeldt, who was eventually rewarded for his good will. In 1774, Baron von Bülow gave Mr. Wraxall a detailed account of the plot to murder Struensee and his partisans on this occasion.

The favourites were not at all reassured by the tranquillity of the people and the sailors, for a dull fermentation was going on, of which they could not be ignorant. Projects for leaving the country, and the results which might ensue from obstinately despising the danger, frequently occupied them. The cabinet minister even one day mentioned his disgust to Reverdil, who was in no respect his confidant, and the latter expressed his surprise that he put up with it. Struensee replied that he had often thought of retiring, and was only prevented by his devotion to the queen, who had ever been before his time a victim of the intrigues and malice of the favourites, and would be so after him. On another occasion, when he assured Reverdil that the king was the sole author of the reforms he had accomplished, he added, "I will not say otherwise under torture." Brandt, who frequently complained of his lot, said, with respect to some reproaches he received from the queen, "that alone is a hell." Brandt, who pretended to be seriously affected by an anonymous letter, confirmed his friend, however, in his resolution of remaining. "To what place could you go," he said to him, "where you would be prime minister and favourite of the king and queen?"

On other occasions, Brandt's incredible levity inspired him with jests as to the fate they had to fear. One day, after making some rather malicious remarks about the marshal of the court, he added: "After all, though, Biälke is the wisest of us, for he is taking advantage of the present time to settle down; he is making a wealthy marriage, and when we are in prison, I flatter myself that he will have pity on us, and send us every now and then some good soup." At another dinner, Brandt began talking about the proposition of September 29 of all flying together, and asked each of the guests what profession he would choose to gain a livelihood. The queen said that she would turn singer; and, indeed, she had a very agreeable voice. Struensee said that he would take a distant farm, and live on it as a philosopher. Brandt proposed to carry on, on his own account, his trade as manager of a theatre; "and you, my fair lady," he added to one of the guests, "cannot fail to succeed; with your form, you need only offer yourself as a model at an academy." The lady was certainly very beautiful, but hid with a great deal of art a defect in her shape, which she thought no one knew.[7]

Still, these anxieties which Brandt treated so gaily in company, affected him, nevertheless, in secret. "I wish all this would come to an end," he said one day to Falckenskjold, "for I have a foreboding that this government will speedily be overthrown."

"You will fare badly if it is," Falckenskjold answered.

"Oh!" said Brandt, with a flash of his old levity, "as far as that is concerned, I have studied law, and shall be able to answer for myself."[8]

About this time, Brandt received another anonymous letter in the same handwriting as the first:—

Well, sir, what I foretold you has happened, and you feel already the effects of your bad conduct. You have been faithless to your king, and you are now treated by others in the same manner. They use you as the monkey did the cat. You are deceived, and since they find they can do with you whatever they please, they laugh at you now, and it will not last long before they send you with contempt about your business, and lest you should tell tales, they may very likely imprison you for life, or send you by some means or the other into another world. This will be the due reward of your treachery, cowardice, and mean actions. I prognosticated all these things to you in my last letter of July 8: since that time my friendship for you, of which I have given you undeniable proof, has grown very cool. You do not deserve that it should continue, since you have been unable to follow good advice, and to do what your honour and your duty require of you. You have, on the contrary, chosen to persevere in your wicked course of life. If you at that time had followed my advice, you would have set the king at liberty, by saving him, and your praise would have been immortal. You would then have satisfied the duties of a good subject, a faithful servant, and an honest man: you would have gained the applause not only of your countrymen, but even of all Europe: they would all have united to procure you rewards according to your merit, and proportionate to the services done to the king and to your country. And certainly nobody would have been more deserving of rewards. But now you are detested through the whole kingdom, and are everywhere laughed at. Much was expected from your loyalty, your love for the king, and from a sense of your own duty; but people were mistaken. You are now punished. You are infamous among the whole nation, and your name is mentioned with horror. At court you are laughed at and entertained with vain hopes; an imaginary greatness is shown you. You are treated with the empty title of Count, which will remain a monument of your want of faith, your weakness, your meanness, and your reproachful conduct. In the meantime, Struensee insults the king and the whole of the royal family, not because they have offended him, but only to show his unlimited power. He arrogates all honours to himself; he makes himself master of the kingdom, the concerns of the government, and of the king, whom he dishonours before the whole world; he disposes of the revenues of the kingdom in a despotic manner, and against all order. This wretch dares to place himself on a level with his master by drawing up an order, by which the signature of his name acquires the same authority that, by the constitution of the kingdom, only belongs to the signature of the king. Your meanness and unwarrantable conduct have assisted to raise him so high; you could have prevented this, and, therefore, you will be answerable for the consequences. He commits crimes and assassinations, and he does it to retain the reins of government; but you contribute your share by obeying the orders of this Cromwell, who is ready to sacrifice the life of the king a thousand times over, if possible, so that he may obtain his wicked ends, and provide for his own security. Instead of acquainting the king with things which nobody knows better than you (for you are cunning enough when it concerns your own interest), you assist this Diedrich Slagheck[9] in arrogating to himself royal authority; in keeping his master under guardianship; in degrading him in the eyes of his subjects, that their love may cease, or at least decrease; and, lastly, as every one says, "in using him personally ill in the bargain."

You who can prevent all this and save the king from the hands of this good-for-nothing wretch, and yet are not willing to do it—you, sir, are accountable for it, and deserve greater punishment than the traitor himself; and believe me, as sure as that there is a God, you sooner or later shall pay for it with your head.

You see how preposterously business is managed; everything is overthrown and jumbled together in the strangest manner and blended with the highest inconsiderateness, of which there is no parallel instance to be met with in history. The most honest people who have served the kingdom such a long while, and so faithfully that even envy itself could not blame them, are removed to a great distance; they are turned away in the most shameful manner if they will not fall in with the measures of this doctor of physic. As if he were afraid of their honesty, their places are filled up with wretches who know nothing of the constitution of the kingdom and the situation of affairs; who know nothing of the business annexed to their offices; in short, people of whom nobody so much as dreamed that they were acquainted even with the first principles of the art of government.

For God's sake! what is the meaning that an Oeder and a Struensee, professor of mathematics at Liegnitz, are placed at the head of the board of finances? These men enjoy an annual salary of 3,000 rix dollars, while others who have served forty and fifty years without blame, are now starving, because they could not betray the king and their country, and would not be employed in promoting bad and destructive ends. Yet these ignorant men dare to take on their shoulders a burden under which, particularly in these unhappy times, a man of courage, ability, and experience, would have trembled. However, the wise man knows the danger, and therefore will not hazard the welfare of the nation and his good character, but the ignorant man, who has nothing to lose, does not perceive the unhappy consequences of his inability and ignorance.

You see, sir, that the nation is acquainted with the wretchedness of this present administration, that it feels the bad consequences of it, which will drive it at last to extremities. You may be the more assured of the truth of this, as discontent discovers itself in a public and alarming manner. You know all this, but you conceal it from the king, though you are the only man that converses with his Majesty, while access to the throne is denied to all the rest of his subjects. You, alone, can inform the king of the dangerous situation himself and his kingdom are in, and the inconceivable indifference wherewith the best and worthiest of his Majesty's subjects are treated. I hear that a certain kingdom (Norway) may soon become alienated: so that in a short time everything may be hopelessly lost, if the king continues to listen to such bad advice.

You see, sir, how the department of foreign affairs is managed, and how, by the intrigues and incapacity of our great prime minister, who has the audacity to interfere, everything is confused, so that the name of the Danes is now a subject for ridicule.

You see, sir, and you know how arbitrarily his excellency, our great prime minister, Count Struensee, disposes of the finances,—the pure blood of the poor subjects.

You, sir, are a Dane of noble extraction, beloved by our king, to whom you and your family owe so many favours, and yet you keep silence! Do you not blush? and are you not convinced in your conscience that you ought to fall the first sacrifice of such conduct, since you might have prevented it, or had, at least, a thousand opportunities to set matters to rights again? If tumult and rebellion (which God forbid) should be the consequences, whom do you think the exasperated populace would attack first? Would they not secure you first, as you are at least as culpable as Struensee? And do not you expose your life, sooner or later, to the greatest danger by this conduct, which is not consistent with the character of an honest man?

Reflect, sir, and return to your duty: I conjure you by the ashes of your father, whom you never knew; by the tears of your virtuous mother, who weeps, perhaps, already on account of your approaching untimely death; and what is still more, I conjure you, by the tears which may some day be shed on your account by the king, the royal family, and your afflicted country.

You are not afraid to disagree with the doctor prime minister when it concerns your private interest: but you are mean enough to be reconciled by a present of 10,000 rix dollars, of which he had robbed the king and the nation to give them to you. Are you not ashamed of such a meanness? and are you not afraid of this man in matters that concern the welfare of your king and your country? These traitors and villains who defend a bad cause, would not have the courage to oppose you, through fear of endangering their heads, which already sit loosely on their shoulders. You would save your king and your country: you would deserve rewards, and would have a right to claim them: they would follow you, of course, since nobody would refuse them: I, myself, who write this letter, would be the first to contribute toward loading you with riches. With what tranquillity and inward satisfaction would you enjoy your fortune, your prerogatives, and your honour, if you should gain this by the consent, and even agreeably to the wishes of your king, your country, and your fellow-citizens. I desire you, sir, to consider this well, though I entertain a better opinion of your generosity, than to suppose that you can be instigated to perform noble actions only by mercenary motives.

In my opinion, you must begin this most important business in the following manner: You are frequently alone with the king: you take a walk in the evening with his Majesty, as I was informed last Wednesday, at Hirschholm: you have found that the king is weary of the guardianship he is kept under. Make use, sir, of such a favourable moment, or occasion it yourself, since you have sufficient understanding for it. Represent to him the unhappy situation he is in, and how inconsistent it is with those obligations under which his royal dignity lays him. Tell him that he, by signing the order of July 15, has divided the throne and his royal authority between himself and Struensee: that he himself, the royal family, the kingdom, all his subjects, his revenues, the life and the property of every one, are left to the arbitrary disposal of this arch-grand vizier, who is a man without experience, honour, religion, or fidelity: who does not regard laws, who is a master over all, even over the life of the king. You know that great crimes are ofttimes productive of still greater ones, or that we may at last fear that it might happen. When you have explained this to the king, then represent to him the despair his subjects are in, and to what they might be driven by such a destructive administration, and by such misery. Show him what danger threatens him and his kingdom, if this wretch has time enough to turn everything upside down. If you should have put the heart of the king in emotion, and have convinced him how absolutely necessary it was to think of the preservation of his royal person, his family, and his kingdom, then propose to him to go directly to Copenhagen, where he will be quite safe: to go to the palace, and send for two or three noblemen who can give good advice, according as the circumstances require: that he might not take false steps (which could be of consequence) at the time when the nation should attempt to revenge itself, and to show its hatred against the authors of its misfortunes and its miseries. I could name these persons, but the nation will do it for me; they ought to be persons acquainted with government, that they may advise according as the present situation of affairs requires: but it must not be Rantzau, or Gähler, or Von der Osten, for these three the nation equally detests, and they, therefore, would frustrate the whole design.

For God's, your king's, your country's, your family's, your own sake—consider all this well; and do not delay any longer to hasten to the assistance of your unhappy country. Save the nation, the king, and your own head.

The contents of this hypocritical letter are in so far of importance, because they comprise all the charges raised by Struensee's opponents among the higher officials. The writer of the two threatening letters was not publicly considered a man of bright intellect, as indeed his Jeremiads sufficiently prove; but still he was supposed to be thoroughly honest. Although he proved himself the contrary, as the result will show, still Brandt appears to have paid some attention to his repeated efforts to save his Danish countryman. The letters, the alarm at the late tumult, and his own melancholy forebodings, at last made Brandt form a desperate resolution. He determined openly to impart his feelings and wishes to Struensee, and hence addressed the following appeal to his noble colleague.[10]

CHAPTER II.

Reproaches often convert love into mere friendship, and equality often friendship into coldness. But this shall be no obstacle to my considering myself bound to pour out my heart before you, as an old friend from whom I am seeking counsel. For the last five or six weeks I have incessantly felt unhappy. With the same strength as I was tortured by melancholy considerations, I tried to appease myself again, but did not succeed. Every night I walk weeping up and down my room till four in the morning. With your remarkably healthy common sense, you, whom I do not know whether I dare call a friend, may condemn me; but you must feel yourself exactly in my position, which you will probably have a difficulty in doing. It must be most oppressive to a man possessed of delicate feelings, through his earlier associations, to be the daily companion of a king, who, far from loving this man (myself), regards me as a burden, and does everything in his power to liberate himself from me. But you force the king to live with me, and in order to complete my misery, compel me to treat the king harshly, according to his own confession. If this is in itself a hell, it is far from being all. I have at the same time been exposed to the laughter and ridicule of the whole nation. In the provinces I am compared with Moranti,[11] and justly so. I have not the slightest influence, and no more power than the first street boy, chosen hap-hazard. My position could at least have an appearance of reputation, and thus flatter vanity, but it has become ridiculous, contemptible, and almost dishonouring, through the rivalry of the negro boy. I am obliged to tell you disagreeable things, but they are true. I alone speak frankly to you. You have inspired everybody with terror: all tremble before you. No despot has ever arrogated such power as yourself, or exercised it in such a way. The king's pages and domestics tremble at the slightest occurrence; all are seized with terror; they talk, they eat, they drink, but tremble as they do so. Fear has seized upon all who surround the minister, even on the queen, who no longer has a will of her own, not even in the choice of her dresses, and their colour. Could you but see yourself in this position, my God, how startled you would be at yourself! Neither in my head nor in my heart has a wish been aroused to conduct the affairs of state, but it suited me to regulate the court and society. For this I am better adapted than you, and would have managed the business more properly: for, only to mention the liveries, they are not liveries, but uniforms. This would have spared you much hatred, and relieved the queen of considerable embarrassment, as she would have arranged the court parties more easily with me than with you. That would have given me a real existence, and saved me from becoming an object of mockery. But with all this it is now too late; for this evil, like so many others, is incurable. If you were now to entrust me with the management, it would only be apparent, and cause me a thousand annoyances. Only one as a specimen. I had a couple of suits of clothes made for the king, and they have been terribly criticised. You find the expense of two suits in three months a little too much, although the king, as a rule, changes his dress thrice a day. Had I not been so firm, which is certainly a difficult matter when opposed to you, I must have engaged, instead of real actors, a lot of impostors, Crispins and Harlequins; and instead of good comedies, we should only have had farces, of which people would have grown tired at the end of three months, after we had made ourselves ridiculous in the eyes of foreigners. Martini and Paschini, whom you tried in the queen's name to induce me to engage, would have been of this description. The orchestra would have been reduced one-half, and have only consisted of pot-house fiddlers from the regiments, who would have cracked the ears of everybody. It would have been the same case as at the balls, which, owing to the eternal repetition of the same dances, which, as you said, were performed by the queen's desire, became in a short time unendurably insipid, as I prophesied. I only mention this to show you what a part I play, and what I could have played, and to request you, if possible, to place me in a position suitable for a man of sense, information, feeling, and decent and proper pride. Even Warnstedt's situation was not so unworthy as mine; and I have cause to apprehend the contempt of all persons, which in my present position would fall on me not unjustly.

Three months ago I wrote you a letter almost to a similar effect, but since then love has made me blind; with love in his heart a man closes his eyes to the truth; he becomes blind, and falls asleep in this blindness. When reason afterwards comes to his help, when love has become friendship, then he sees things in their true light. Now, I ask myself, what would have afforded me any consolation in this unhappy position? and have only the answer—Struensee's friendship and kind conduct towards me. The former no longer exists, for you treat me with rusticity and arrogance. No mortal man has ever before dared to behave to me in such a way. At the play table, in company and everywhere, you decide everything yourself, and are only satisfied when you have humiliated other men. You really should not have behaved thus to a friend who has ever loved you so dearly, and even at a time when all his companions and daily associates reproached him for his intercourse with you; and though it might injure him, always praised you, confessed his friendship for you to everybody, and formerly employed all his skill in persuading Holck and quieting Bernstorff. Ah, my friend, how dangerous life at court is to the character! Would to Heaven you had never made acquaintance with it! I cannot possibly comprehend why your fine feelings have not been aroused against the unworthy and disgraceful game of loo. If you were to be so unfortunate as to win a large sum from a friend or a man unable to afford it, you would not be satisfied till you had introduced a loo, a campion, or a trente-et-un, of a less dangerous character. For me it is a terrible reflection how much I have lost at these games in two months. There have been months in which I lost 1,800 dollars, and I am now obliged to sell some of my shares. And then, to be obliged to submit to reproaches for at times losing less than formerly! Could not a man blow out his brains for vexation at it?

If you desired to make a concession to a feeling and cruelly-wounded mind, I have lately thought out a plan whose fulfilment would render me perfectly happy. It would be the greatest pleasure to me to be able to go to Paris, and live there decently. In order to realise this wish, I require a yearly revenue of 20,000 species.[12] The whole city daily expects to hear that the king has given you estates, and people mention Wallö and Wemmetofte, while others are said to be intended for me. It is considered strange that we counts have no landed property, and if the king gives you Wallö and Wemmetofte, which produce 21,000 species annually, and me the county of Rantzau, which produces 15,000, no one will be surprised at it, and I shall thus be enabled to make an annual trip to Paris, and reside for some months on my estates.

Still this plan, however flattering it may sound for me, and even if you concede its fulfilment, cannot tranquillise me, for my imagination alone has sought a vain refuge in it. Fortunately there are three men here who are all gifted with sound sense, and honest and united, for whom I will answer with my head—Reverdil, Falckenskjold, and Düval. It will, therefore, solely depend on you, whether I shall entirely retire from court, and shortly undertake the post of a theatrical director, which, if it is to be properly conducted, will require my constant presence. We shall then love each other more, and you will find in me a man who, sooner than allow himself by madness and desperation to be drawn into a cabal against you, even if it promised a successful result, would not hesitate to free himself from his misery by poison or steel.

Hence I beg you to release me, to continue to be my friend, to reflect on the contents of this letter for a week or a fortnight, and then return it to me with your answer. For it is written solely for you, and I declare that I would despair if it accidentally fell into other hands.

Brandt.

Strange that Struensee, a man of sense and experience, could continue to trust in Brandt after the perusal of such a letter addressed to him. Not only does the letter contain a series of insulting remarks, and the direct assertion that intercourse with Struensee had been dishonourable to the writer, but it also bore the stamp of incipient insanity, and a temper that might easily become dangerous. But Struensee's self-confidence was so great that he did not apprehend desertion or attack from this quarter. Besides, he was sincerely attached to Brandt, and did not forget the services the latter had rendered him. His reply to Brandt's petulant letter may almost be called a state paper, though of the doctrinaire school:—

Struensee to Brandt.

Persons are always unhappy who possess an imagination rich enough to invent everything that makes us unhappy and yet wish to render us happy. When a man is gifted with such a temperament, and combines with it a natural levity which produces a liking for change, he will never arrive at a quiet enjoyment of the moment, but constantly find reasons to wish himself in a different position. But a man must sacrifice himself when he wishes to perform meritorious actions. For no one will give us credit for actions which cost us no trouble, or which we undertake for our own pleasure. The satisfaction which it will cause the queen if you succeed in your task, and the unmistakable proofs of it which you have already received, will be your reward. All that you say in addition would cause me no suspicion, if I were only convinced that it merely emanated from your zealousness; but I am morally convinced that it flows from an entirely different source. Since your amour (with Frau von Holstein), you have altered your principles, mode of thought, and views. From that moment, you have deserted and neglected me, and only granted me a few spare minutes. I have never reproached you for this, although it was done to please a person who has a mean opinion of me, and often treats me improperly. I have had the greatest respect for your inclination, and done all in my power to please you, although it has cost me trouble to overcome the anger with which Frau von Holstein inspires me. She is to me the most disagreeable of her sex, and has become even more so since I have been obliged to share your friendship with her. I request you to compare this confession with my conduct, and then to judge whether I have made a sacrifice for your sake. You must also take into account the queen's aversion for this lady, which I had even to overcome at the moment when I reproved her while dancing,—all of which, up to the present day, has been occasioned by her. This misunderstanding has often embittered my happiness; but I have never spoken to you about it. Whether this may be called a mistake or a reserve, the effect remains the same. You can yourself decide how great my confidence in you must be, as neither my feelings nor my conduct toward you have undergone any change, although I saw you allied with a person whom I dislike; whose society is disagreeable to me; and whom I mistrust.

I request you to reproach me and to oppose my intentions, in case you see that matters are going badly, or that I render the king unhappy. But if they succeed, I do not permit you to examine the means I have employed. You object, that I cause everybody terror; you should, on the contrary, praise me for it, because it is the sole correct means of curing an enervated state, with an intriguing court and people, and a king who has the same liking for change as his nation. You ought to pity me, because it is necessary for me to make myself feared, as I can only find affection through the fulfilment of my duty. I challenge you to mention anybody whom I have rendered unhappy. A yielding minister, who does not know how to act, is only a charlatan, a harlequin; for if he is also compliant in his acts, the state will always have to pay the price for securing adherents in that way. Denmark furnishes the most melancholy instances of this.

The persons who have spoken to you about the suffering of the pages and lackeys are assuredly intriguing, mean men, of no character, who only aim to make everything sink once more into the old chaos. If a man has to reform an intriguing court, and bring it to order, he cannot treat it with the mildness with which the late Söhlenthal[13] managed his household. You, yourself, were a witness of the disorder that crept into the king's apartments during my illness.[14] Good-heartedness and concession have ever been the true cause of Denmark's decay. I have saved the king from slavery, and done everything to render him happy. As regards my conduct toward his Majesty, I allow you no opinion about it, least of all when you express it in such a tone as your letter displays. You desire to arrange the king and queen's company? but I cannot hand over to you this decisive way of acquiring influence. I could mention other reasons why the court parties and balls have become insipid and tedious,—the arrogant and imperious conduct of Frau von Holstein; the readiness to oblige which you imputed to the other ladies through assisting in concerts, &c.; your attempt to introduce tragedies, and thus overcome the king's tastes; the composition of the dances contrary to the queen's inclination, and the dislike for the tour which she is fond of, and a thousand other trifles, which I could mention to you, if I were equally inclined with you to listen to complaints which persons wished to bring against you. But I have constantly refused to listen to such complaints, and have striven to convince people of the injustice of their accusations, without saying a word against you. If I liked to repeat everything of this sort which has been said to me, you would be astonished to find that as many complaints have been made against you as your so-called friends have brought against me. I regard both the one and the other as a thing that deserves no attention, and hence does not cause me the slightest anxiety; and I had expected the same from you.

As, besides, all these disputes have no ulterior effect on the king and the state, and solely affect my person and yours, we should strive to remove them, for they do not merit that on their account men should select a different road, when they, in a consciousness of higher and nobler motives, occupy a place like yours and mine. Personalities must not be taken into consideration, or, at the most, be regarded as a matter of secondary importance. A man can change his situation when he does not feel happy in it but he ought to go to work sensibly, and be tranquil under all circumstances, just in the same way as it is not permitted to change the cards because they are not good, or a man does not give up the game at once because he has been unfortunate for a time. A practised player does what he can, and waits patiently for a change in his luck.

I feel all possible gratitude for what you have done to place me in the position I now occupy. I regard you as the first man who helped me to it, although in politics it is not usual to reckon what any man has done to produce our good fortune by distant steps, but only what that person has done for us who also possessed the means to do it, while we value the former for his good intentions, which is a matter of friendship. After I had acquired the confidence and favour of the king and the queen, and gained respect with the public, through my own strength, and all the difficulties and dangers which are connected with such an enterprise, I summoned you, and shared with you the results and pleasantness of my position, so that you at once found yourself in the same fortunate situation as myself. But you are not willing to thank me for this, but insist, on the contrary, that I should owe everything to you, make way for you, and share with you the honour which I have acquired neither accidentally nor through favour, but solely through my own exertions. You insist on my taking the second place, so that you alone may be in possession of the favour, confidence, and respect, and I execute your orders. But let me tell you, once for all, that a division is impossible through the character of the king and queen. You must, therefore, either take the whole authority, or be satisfied with the confidence of being informed by me of everything that takes place. I ask you to reflect, only for a moment, what use I make of my dignity, and whether I apply it to my personal profit? I have no court, no party, no personal distinction. You enjoy the same privileges at court as myself. And are my friends, if I have any, the most distinguished? Can you not be satisfied with being at a court where there is somebody who stands above you in respect and power? and if you can be so, are you not glad that this man, whose conduct is irreproachable, has invited you to join him, and procured you the place you occupy?

You request that the management of the court and all that appertains to it should be entrusted to you. What else is this than that you wish to deprive me of the sole means by which I can compel subordinates to pay me external respect, as in the opposite case, they would openly express their dissatisfaction with me, owing to my proper opposition to them? But, leaving this point out of consideration, business would be impeded if it were believed that my influence was weakened, which would be so serious a matter to me, that I cannot allow any one to touch it, because in that case I should soon become powerless.

The sole cause why you desire a division of that nature is, because you think you play too insignificant a part in public. But who has told you so? I suppose some of your friends, or those who flatter you, and hope to profit by the change, if your influence were increased. But, at the same time, those who call themselves my friends, and probably with the same intention, have said to me, "You allow Brandt too much power; he and Frau von Holstein manage everything, if not by straight ways, then by crooked. It is better to cling to Brandt, for all whom he protects prosper better than those protected by you."

I have never refused you anything. You desired the Holstein, and I consented, in spite of my repugnance. Her husband has rewarded me badly for it. It is not his fault that the finances have not fallen into utter confusion, and I have even found myself compelled to resist the appearance of possessing influence which he has given himself. You have power over everything which agrees with the principles and with the system accepted by yourself, and have no cause to complain so long as I do not alter, either because my own interests might demand it, or for the sake of another person, whom I am forced to take under my protection. Everything you bring forward only leads to the conclusion that your ambition and vanity are not satisfied. You desire an immediate influence over my mind and my heart. You want to pull down the house because you did not build it, and refuse to inhabit it because it does not belong to you, and you are obliged to share it with another man.

You are the only person who is in possession of all my secrets, and in whom I have in every case confided without reservation. I have no necessity to justify myself for this, for my heart gives me the testimony that I have neglected nothing to prove that which you too would have recognised, were not your heart engaged elsewhere. I do not complain because I have not succeeded in meeting with reciprocal feelings, for it cost me no self-conquest to be devoted to you.

What folly that there can be men who speak of a rivalry between you and the negro lad Moranti! The livery is an insignificant subject among the arrangements I have made. It would have been better had you, instead of withdrawing from the hatred and discontent of the persons by whom you are surrounded, and who represent the court and the public, not mixed yourself up in this matter, for it is wise to be unpleasant to such persons, and this ought to be managed even in an unfair way. I have always striven to produce the king and queen contentment, and have, at least, partially succeeded. If you, on the contrary, strive to please others, you will stray off the road, like your predecessors. You know very well how necessary economy is, and that I request it on every occasion. The queen, though a lady, is not angry with me when I recommend retrenchment as regards her wardrobe. It is of the greatest influence on the general welfare that no paying of fees should exist, and yet you wish that the valet should retain his fees, although I took them away from him, and exposed myself to the risk of having enemies in the king's entourage! I have deprived the king's servants of a lucrative source, and you wish to restore it to them, so as to render yourself popular with these people. These are certainly only trifles, but every sensible man is aware that slight causes frequently produce great effects. We ought, perhaps, to have paid a little more attention to buffoons; for the king would, probably, have applauded farces more than tearful tragedies, and if you had been reproached on that account by foreigners, but had amused the king, would not that have been a sufficient reward for the sacrifice of your taste? If the queen has been mistaken in her opinion about Martini and Paschini, she possesses sufficient good sense to recognise her error, and the whole affair only cost 2,000 dollars. You ought to have dismissed these soi-disant artistes, as I advised you. If the regimental "pot-house fiddlers" had been properly trained and practised in accompaniment, the expenses for flute and violin players would have been saved, who look like beaux, and drive about with four horses. If the balls had been carried on as they began, they would have breathed a natural merriment instead of all the affectation which the dancing-master, favoured by Madame de Holstein, introduced, and which rendered them insipid and tedious, because only a few danced well enough, and the others, the protectress included, were obliged to take lessons of the dancing-master ere they could take part. It was not the monotony but the affectation that ruined the balls; for the king has never been able to learn a set dance. You prefer to gain the applause of the public instead of pleasing your friend, and humouring the whims and peculiarities of the king and queen. The comic element has always been most in demand, because we could not expect to find tragedians. I have explained to you the causes of this a thousand times. That desire is founded in the character of the king and queen, and the relations in which they have always lived.

All your complaints are based on the passion which possesses me at times when at the card table. In other respects, however, I am not aware that I have ever offended against the rules of good behaviour. Your caprice alone has detected such failings in me. If I have insulted you, it occurred through carelessness, and I beg your pardon for it. I will, in future, be more attentive to myself, for it would grieve me were I to offend on this head, though I must confess that I am not happy in the matter of small attentions. As a compensation for this, I may be allowed to boast that I have never neglected any opportunity to please my friends that presented itself to me. Up to the present I was not aware either that persons had found your intercourse with me blamable, and that you ran a risk of injuring your character by it. Such an expression ought never to have passed the lips of a man who boasts of his susceptibility and fine feeling. It is hard to hear such things from a friend, although it has not insulted me; for I do not regulate my respect for others on the opinion of strangers; and I do not remember a single moment when you had cause to be ashamed of my acquaintance. And then, too, what would have become of you if I had followed the advice of my friends?

You accuse me of despotism? Well, if I am a despot in business, your despotism goes much further, for you wish to rule the taste at the theatres, and that of dress, balls, and parties. Loo is the only game that amuses the king; the queen, too, is fond of it, and neither cares for any other game, for I have often proposed it to no effect. That you and the Holstein lose at it, and that they refuse at once to begin another game, is sufficient to set you in a fury. In order to gain access to Frau von Moltke, I lost from 20 to 30 dollars nearly every evening, at a time when I had only a salary of 1,000 dollars. But I did not grumble at it, for I thought a man must regulate himself by the company he associates with. How many persons utterly ruin themselves at other places, in order to be able to live at court, and belong to the circles of the king and queen! The easy manner in which you obtained everything you desired, has led you to consider even those exalted personages as nobodies. My "delicate feeling" is not affected because you lose at play; for, in the first place, I do not always win; and, secondly, you are not without resources by which to recover your losses. However, these are but trifles when the point is to amuse the king and queen; but it is always a dangerous thing to undertake changes in their mode of life. After your return to court, you raised the stakes and bet heavily on the cards. I remember one evening when you won and I lost, but I did not, on that account, recommend more moderate stakes. But it is not you who wish or speak so, but the Holstein, and on that account I am vexed.

I ask you now, whether you do not consider your proposition (about the estates) indelicate and selfish? How have we deserved such great rewards, that we might amuse ourselves in Paris, because we are weary of Copenhagen? For my part, I would not accept such gifts, even if the king entertained the most insane and blind devotion to me, and therefore will not promote such a thing in the slightest degree, but always oppose it.

I shall be very cautious about proposing a friend to the king. He may choose one for himself, and I leave him perfect liberty to do so.

I also beg you to reflect, whether, when engaged with other people, either on business or pleasure, it is possible to avoid all unpleasantness and arrogance? But the more important the object of our action is, the less must we care for such vexations. If I had made some slight concessions, I could have made my fortune, but I declined the chance; for, if I succeed in introducing order into the government, I shall be sufficiently rewarded, although I must now put up with daily ingratitude.

I greatly regret that, in spite of my zealous exertions to render you happy, and thus afford you a proof of my friendship, I have effected exactly the opposite. Still, I beg you to calm yourself, to give no heed to ear-wiggers, to examine your position and what attaches you to it, to weigh the comforts on one side, the unpleasantness on the other; to compare the present with the past and the future, and to draw a final conclusion. I have spoken to you frankly and perhaps rather roughly. From the latter, you must not conclude that I am prejudiced against you: for I only did so because I felt convinced that Frau von Holstein is the cause of your dissatisfaction. You can say far more bitter things to me without arousing me. But so long as you maintain your connections with that lady, you will always find me reserved and susceptible, whether it is that I do not like the woman, or because I am jealous at being obliged to share your friendship with her. Pray reflect what a self-conquest it must have cost me to pay her such attention, or even to allow her to remain in Copenhagen.

Finally, I request you not to take any precipitate step, but to speak to me frequently about your affairs, so that we may discover a way to satisfy you. I will willingly sign any proposition to that effect.

Struensee.