The Duke of York had kept up a constant correspondence with Queen Matilda since she had left England; he wrote to her from Paris a few weeks before his death telling her that he was making a tour through France, and intended, before he returned to England, to travel northwards and pay her a visit at Copenhagen. But on his journey to the south of France the Duke caught a chill, and when he arrived at Monaco he was taken seriously ill. For fourteen days he lingered in great suffering, alleviated only by the affectionate offices of the gentlemen of his suite and the kindness of the Prince of Monaco. The Duke died on September 17, 1767, at the age of twenty eight. His body was removed on board the British ship-of-war Montreal, and conveyed home to be buried in Westminster Abbey.
The news of the Duke of York’s death reached Copenhagen on October 10, and the English envoy was under some difficulty how best to break the news to the Queen, in her delicate state of health. He writes: “My apprehensions of the effect it might have had on her Danish Majesty in her present situation, whenever she became acquainted with it, made me communicate my first intelligence of it to Madame de Plessen, of whose caution and discretion in this instance I have no doubt, that she might take such methods of preparing the Queen for it as she judged most likely to lessen the shock, which otherwise so unexpected an event might be attended with. I have the pleasure to acquaint you that her Majesty has suffered as little as (considering the great tenderness of her disposition) could well be expected.”[83]
[83] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, October 13, 1767.
Queen Matilda felt her brother’s death keenly, the more so as she had been looking forward to his visit to Copenhagen, when she hoped to confide to him her troubles, and ask his help and guidance. When Christian heard of his Queen’s loss, he wrote her (through Reverdil) an affectionate letter of condolence. The Queen was touched by this consideration; she felt tenderly towards her husband, and was anxious to be friends. When the King returned from Holstein, the Queen drove out eight leagues from Copenhagen to meet him. But Christian’s greeting was cold and formal, though he got into her coach and drove back with her into Copenhagen, so that the citizens might think that he was on good terms with his Queen.
After her husband’s return Matilda made several efforts to win his love, and behaved to him with the utmost submission, but he did not respond. Her pathetic desire to please him, her extreme youth and loneliness, the fact that she was soon to become the mother of his child—these considerations had no weight with Christian VII. He repulsed his wife’s advances, and treated her with rudeness and contempt, conduct which, under the circumstances, was peculiarly brutal. He made coarse jokes about her condition; he even tried to force Holck, whom she detested, upon her as master of her household. She refused with tears and agitation, so the King made him court marshal, and gave him the management of all the festivities at court, where comedies, balls and masquerades succeeded one another without interruption.
In addition to Christian’s cruelty to his Queen, he flaunted his infidelity before her eyes. He had no inclination for the ladies of the court (indeed the company of refined women seemed distasteful to him), but at Holck’s suggestion he sought the society of women politely termed “actresses,” and thereby derived no little amusement and distraction. Holck, however, was not responsible for a woman whose acquaintance the King made at this time, who went by the nickname of Stovlep Katerine, or “Catherine of the Gaiters”. This woman, according to Reverdil, was brought before the King’s notice by Count Danneskjold-Laurvig. Her real name appears to have been Anna Catherine Benthaken, and she was the natural daughter of an eminent officer in the Danish service. As a child she was brought up in the household of this officer, but after his death her mother married a retired soldier, who was by trade a tailor who made gaiters. As Catherine was penniless she accompanied her mother to her stepfather’s poor house, where, in return for her board and lodging, she was obliged to sew gaiters—hence her nickname. But she could not brook this life long, and having a vivacious temperament and some natural gifts she sought other means of livelihood. Copenhagen in the eighteenth century offered few opportunities of honest work for unmarried women, so Catherine first became an opera dancer, and then the mistress of an Englishman, Sir John Goodrich.[84] She lived with him for some time, and was generally known as “Milady”. At the time Christian made her acquaintance, “Milady” was a good-looking young woman, with a fine figure, and an excellent taste in dress. She was amusing and witty, and equal to any wild scheme the King might conceive. It was her ambition to become maîtresse en titre, and to this end she lent herself to all kinds of extravagancies in order that she might gain greater influence over the King. Before long “Milady” achieved her ambition; she received the honour of an invitation to a masquerade at the palace, and the King showed his preference to the court by dancing with her nearly all the evening. Queen Matilda was spared the sight of this insult, for in consequence of her state of health she was unable to be present, but the incident was duly reported to her, and filled her with grief and resentment.
[84] Sir John Goodrich was nominated by the British Government Minister Plenipotentiary to Sweden, but, through the intrigues of the French Government, he never got nearer Stockholm than Copenhagen.