CHAPTER VIII.
AT THE COURT OF DENMARK.
1767-1768.
The relations between the King and Queen did not improve as time went on. Matilda was frightened by Christian’s wildness and dissipation, piqued by his indifference, and wounded by his sarcasms. Though she was very young she had a high spirit, and did not submit quietly to insult. Her position at the court, of which she was nominally the reigning Queen, was very unsatisfactory—the King was autocrat and she was nothing—even in trifling questions concerning the royal household she was not consulted, and if she ventured to express an opinion it was ignored. She had no relative to whom she could look for guidance. The Queen-Mother, Sophia Magdalena, had retired to Hirschholm; she was nearly seventy years old, and since the fall of Moltke had abjured politics and given herself up to good works. The Queen-Dowager, Juliana Maria, was secretly hostile, and Matilda did not trust her, though the three Queens at this time, as Reverdil says, lived outwardly “dans une grande intimité et dans un ennui paisible”. The King’s sister, the Princess Louise, was too much absorbed in her husband and child to be of any use to her sister-in-law, and the King’s aunt, Charlotte Amelia, had never appeared at court since Matilda arrived in Denmark. So the young Queen had to seek the advice of her chief lady, Madame de Plessen, and she was guided by her in all things. It was the wish of this lady to bring back to the lax court of Christian VII. the stiff and wearisome etiquette that had prevailed in the reign of the King’s grandfather, Christian VI. In her eyes Matilda was not only a young married woman, but the Queen of the land, whom the King himself might only approach according to the rules of etiquette. Christian must be made to understand that Queen Matilda was his honoured consort, and not his mistress.
It is possible that, had the young couple been left to themselves, they would in time have understood one another better, and learned to make allowances for each other. They were little more than children when they married, and quarrelled like children; they would probably have been reconciled afterwards like children, and become better friends. But they were not left to themselves. Madame de Plessen chose to stand between husband and wife in their most intimate relations, and with disastrous results. She was especially to blame in embittering the Queen’s mind against the King by repeating every thoughtless utterance of his, and magnifying every foolish deed. In Madame de Plessen’s opinion the Queen could only acquire an influence over her husband by treating him with coldness, and resisting his advances. The ladies of the court were ready to throw themselves into the King’s arms at the least provocation—not that he ever gave them any—and Madame de Plessen thought that he would value most what it was not easy to obtain. In pursuance of this policy she advised the Queen to treat him with coyness and reserve. For instance, the King came unannounced one morning into the Queen’s room while she was dressing. A kerchief had just been placed around her neck; the King pushed it aside and pressed a kiss upon his wife’s shoulder. Whereupon Madame de Plessen held up her hands in disgust, and the Queen, taking her cue from the duenna, feigned anger, and reproached her husband for disarranging her kerchief. The King snatched it off her bosom, tore it in pieces, and threw it on the floor. He did not come back for several days.
Again, Madame de Plessen was annoyed because the King sent in the evening to know if the Queen had retired to bed; she considered it wanting in respect to the Queen, and advised Matilda to put a stop to it. The next time the King sent to make his inquiry, the answer was returned that her Majesty was playing chess and would not retire until her game was finished. The King waited until twelve o’clock, and then he came into the Queen’s apartments and found her still playing chess with Madame de Plessen. Very much annoyed he began to walk up and down the room without saying a word, and the game was not finished until the clock struck one. The Queen then said she wished to have her revenge, and he saw Madame de Plessen give a triumphant smile. Then he understood what was meant. He left the room in a fury, and banged the door after him, and did not come near the Queen again for a fortnight. There were many such scenes as these, and each one left the relations between the King and Queen more strained than before, until within a year of their marriage they were thoroughly alienated from one another.
The immediate result of Madame de Plessen’s interference was to drive the King still further into dissipation and folly. Prevented from enjoying his wife’s society as he would, he spent his evenings with his friends, who included the wildest spirits of the court. The King’s evening parties, which he held in his own rooms, had long ceased to bear even a superficial resemblance to the celebrated gatherings of Frederick the Great; they assumed by degrees a more and more noisy and riotous character. The young men indulged in sham fights and wrestling to develop the King’s “smartness”—this was the word he used to denote his physical strength. These fights, indulged in after plentiful libations of wine, often proved destructive of the furniture, and sometimes ended in high words and bad temper. But the fighting was comparatively harmless. The King’s evening gatherings unfortunately did not stop here, but degenerated into excesses which recalled the orgies described in the pages of Juvenal and Petronius. Even Sperling seems to have found these dissipations too much for him. At any rate he gradually lost the King’s favour, and was replaced by Brandt, a page of the chamber.
Enevold Brandt was a few years older than Christian VII. He came of an ancient Danish family: his father had been a privy councillor and private secretary to Queen Sophia Magdalena, but he died before his son’s birth. His mother married again Baron Söhlenthal, and young Brandt was brought up in his stepfather’s house. At an early age he went to Copenhagen to study law, and passed his examinations with flying colours. In his vacations Brandt travelled widely: he was a polished man of the world and possessed brilliant social qualities. Christian VII., who was clever enough to appreciate cleverness in others, took a great fancy to him, for a time. Honours, both legal and courtly, were showered upon him. He was appointed an assessor of the Court of Chancery, a page of the chamber, and an assessor of the Supreme Court. Brandt was below the middle height, and though his face could not be described as handsome, he had an air of distinction. After Christian’s accession he was a good deal about the person of the King, and was of great use in arranging the masquerades. It was thought that he would succeed Sperling as the King’s first favourite, but Christian quickly tired of his friends, and as soon as the masquerades were over Brandt found himself eclipsed in the royal favour by Holck.