THE BIRTH OF A PRINCE.
1768.
Queen Matilda gave birth to a son and heir—the future King Frederick VI.—on January 28, 1768. Titley thus records the event: “Yesterday the Queen of Denmark fell in labour, and about ten o’clock at night was happily delivered of a prince, to the extreme satisfaction of her royal consort and the whole court. The Queen, God be praised, and the new-born prince are this morning both as well as can be expected. This very important and much desired event happened but an hour or two before the anniversary of the King of Denmark’s own birthday, and we are now celebrating the double festivity. The birth of an heir male to the Crown has completely fulfilled the ardent wishes and prayers of the public, and consequently spread a real joy through all ranks of the people here.”[85]
[85] Titley’s despatch, Copenhagen, January 29, 1768.
A few days later the infant prince was christened by the name of Frederick. The ceremony took place in the Queen’s bedchamber, and nobody was admitted except the ministers and council—the English envoy was not invited. Queen Juliana Maria, to whom the birth of this prince was the death-blow of her hopes, and the Princess Charlotte Amelia (represented by proxy), were the godmothers, and Prince Frederick, the King’s brother, was the godfather. The King had wished for a public ceremonial, but the babe was sickly and ailing, and it was deemed necessary to baptise him as soon as possible. During her illness the Queen was fenced round by the most rigid etiquette by Madame de Plessen; she was attended in turn by Madame de Plessen, a lady-in-waiting, and the wife of a Knight of the Elephant. The infant was attended by two court ladies, who were changed according to rank, and this absurd formality continued until all the court ladies had shared the privilege. The Queen, a short time after her confinement, had also to undergo the ordeal of sitting up in bed (the royal infant in a bassinet by the side of the bed) and receiving the congratulations of the court ladies and gentlemen, who filed through the room in procession. The fatigue of this levee, or perhaps Madame de Plessen’s wearisome formalities, made the Queen seriously ill. Gunning, who never lost a chance of attacking his arch-enemy, wrote to Lord Weymouth:—
“Her Danish Majesty has been very much indisposed for some days, but her physicians, who own that they were not without apprehensions, now assure me that all danger is over. It is with the greatest concern that I think myself obliged to acquaint your lordship with my fears that her Majesty’s indisposition has been occasioned, in some measure, by the imprudent conduct of the lady who is her grande maîtresse. I thought it my duty to acquaint General Conway with the character of Madame de Plessen immediately after her nomination to a post that I could wish she had never filled, expressing at the same time my desire that her Majesty might be informed of it. And in some despatches subsequent to the Queen’s arrival here, I applied for instructions with regard to my explaining this matter to her Majesty, but not having had any orders to do so, I could not with propriety, and consistent with my duty, venture upon it, though I daily saw the fatal effects of the ascendant this lady acquired. Her Majesty’s sweetness of disposition and her natural vivacity could not but, as indeed it did, attract the esteem and affection of a young Prince who had so great a share of the latter. Had she been allowed to follow the bent of her own inclinations, it would have been so firmly established that nothing could have shaken it. But this would not have answered the end of those who advised a different conduct. The Queen’s influence and ascendant would then have been too great, and she herself would not have been subject to that of others.... An attention to the situation her Majesty has been in of late has prevented the King’s executing the resolution he has long taken of removing her grande maîtresse, but as soon as the Queen’s health is thoroughly established, I understand this is to take place.”[86]
[86] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, February 17, 1768.
Gunning proved right in his conjecture, for a few weeks later Madame de Plessen was suddenly dismissed. The King would hardly have dared to take this step if others had not come to his assistance. Madame de Plessen had made many enemies by her tactless conduct, but her political intrigues were the direct cause of her fall. So long as the French party was in the ascendant all went well with her, but during the last year Russia had grown in power and influence at the Danish court. Russia, through her two envoys, Saldern, the envoy in Holstein, and Filosofow, the envoy in Copenhagen, had gained the ear of the Prime Minister, Bernstorff, and other persons holding high office, notably of Baron Schimmelmann,[87] Grand Treasurer. Moreover, Saldern was a personal friend of the King, and joined him in many of his wildest dissipations; and it is probable that he won Christian over to Russia by giving him money to defray his extravagancies. Saldern was a terrible man, a semi-barbarian, with rough brutal strength and domineering will that bore down all opposition. He knew that Reventlow, the Queen’s chamberlain, and Madame de Plessen were on the side of France; he determined to get rid of them, and to this end used all his influence with the King. Reventlow was dismissed with ignominy, and Sperling, his nephew, soon followed; but Madame de Plessen remained, and until she was gone Saldern could not feel safe against French intrigues. He regarded the Queen’s household as the centre of the French party, and he hated Matilda because she supported Madame de Plessen. A letter of Saldern’s, written about the end of January, 1768, gives an insight into the character of the man. “My great torment,” he wrote, “comes from the Queen. She has lost her right arm in Reventlow, but she still has the left in Plessen, a mischievous woman, but I will deprive her of this arm also.... When the King goes to see the Queen she tells him he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that the whole city says he lets himself be governed by me. She only says this out of revenge, because I sent away her flea-catcher (sa preneuse de puces). The King tells me all this, and I show him mon égide, and we laugh together.”[88]
[87] Schimmelmann was a German-Jew by birth, and a type of the rogue now called a “financier”. After a career as a money-lender, during which he amassed a fortune, he arrived in Denmark. He possessed great financial ability, and made himself so useful to the Danish Government that he was given first the title of Baron, then the Order of the Elephant, and lastly appointed Grand Treasurer.