THE FALL OF BERNSTORFF.
1770.
The King and Queen of Denmark travelled from Lüneburg direct to Copenhagen. During the short stay of the court in the capital the Queen showed herself much in public, and sought in all ways to impress her personality upon the people. She drove every day about the streets in a state coach, attended by an escort of guards; the King was always by her side, and his presence was intended to give the lie to many sinister rumours. Apparently the royal couple were living together in the utmost harmony and the King had complete confidence in his Queen. Together they attended the Copenhagen shooting festival, an honour which had not been bestowed on the citizens for a hundred years, and were most gracious in their demeanour, especially the Queen, who was all bows and smiles. Matilda further gratified the assembly by firing a shot herself, and inducing the King to follow her example. The Queen hit the popinjay, but Christian missed it badly. Matilda gained considerable popularity from the crowd by this exhibition of her skill, but the more sober-minded citizens were scandalised because she rode on to the ground sitting her horse like a man, and clad in her masculine riding-habit. The King rode by her side, but it was jocularly said that the Queen was “by far the better man of the two,” which was what exactly she wished to convey. Certainly the diminutive and feeble Christian looked a poor creature beside his dashing and Amazonian wife.
From Copenhagen the King and Queen went to Hirschholm, the country palace of the late Queen Sophia Magdalena, which, since her death, had been prepared for their use, and henceforth eclipsed Frederiksborg in the royal favour. Hirschholm was not so far from the capital as Frederiksborg, and was situated amid beautiful surroundings. The palace had been built by Sophia Magdalena on an island in the middle of a lake. It was very ornate externally, and one of the most striking features was a huge gate-tower, which terminated in a pyramid supported by four lions, couchant and surmounted by a crown. This gateway gave entrance to a quadrangular court, round three sides of which the palace was built. The interior was gorgeous, and the decorations were so florid as to be almost grotesque; a profusion of silver, mother-of-pearl and rock crystal embellished the walls, and the ceilings and doors were elaborately painted. The south aspect of the palace looked over the lake to the beautiful gardens beyond, which were freely adorned with marble fountains and statuary. In the gardens was a summer-house, which was used as a temporary theatre for the amusement of the Queen and her court. Beyond the park were shady avenues and noble forests of beech and pine. In fine weather Hirschholm was a paradise.[135]
[135] Hirschholm became the favourite palace of Queen Matilda, and usurped even Frederiksborg in her favour. It was more associated than any other palace in Denmark with her love for Struensee. Perhaps because of this her son, Frederick VI., when he came to the throne, razed the palace to the ground. Not a trace of it now remains, but the beautiful woods and surroundings of Hirschholm still exist, and even to-day is pointed out the “Lovers’ walk,” where the Queen and Struensee used to pace side by side, and the summer-house where they sat, and spoke of all their hopes and fears.
At Hirschholm the Queen made appointments in her household to fill the places of Madame von der Lühe, Fräulein von Eyben and others dismissed at Traventhal. The Queen’s chief ladies were now Madame Gahler, Baroness Bülow and Countess Holstein. They were three young, beautiful and lively women, not too strict in their conduct, and the husbands of all, needless to say, were friends of Struensee. Madame Gahler was the wife of General Gahler, who held high place in the councils of Traventhal. Baron Bülow was the Master of Horse, and Count Holstein held a post about the King. The Queen had always fretted under the stiff etiquette of the Danish court; now, at the suggestion of Struensee, she dispensed with it altogether, except on public occasions. The result was that the manners of the court at Hirschholm became so lax and unceremonious that it hardly seemed to be a court at all. Some show of deference was kept up towards the King, but the Queen was treated with great familiarity, evidently at her own wish, and in Struensee’s case this familiarity sometimes degenerated into positive rudeness. The ladies and gentlemen of the royal household laughed and joked and flirted as they pleased, without any restraint, in the presence of the Queen, scrambled for places at her table, and quarrelled violently over cards. Even Rantzau was surprised at the conduct at Hirschholm. “When I was a wild young man,” he said, “everybody at court was apparently respectable, except myself. Now that I am old, and obliged to be more careful, every one about the court has gone mad.”
The court at Hirschholm was conducted on a scale of luxury, and on occasion with ceremonial magnificence. The King and Queen dined frequently in public in the grand saloon, and were served on bended knee by pages; the marshal of the palace sat at one end of the table, the Queen’s chief lady at the other, their Majesties in the middle on one side, and the guests honoured with the royal command opposite them. The King was a poor and insignificant figure, and rarely uttered a word; but the Queen, who dressed beautifully, made a grand appearance, and delighted everybody with her lively conversation. Matilda had wit and vivacity, though during her early years in Denmark she had perforce to curb her social qualities; now she gave them full play, and the King gazed at her in silent astonishment and admiration. A table of eighty covers was also laid every day in the adjoining “Chamber of the Rose” for the foreign envoys and great officers of state (if any happened to be present) and the court officials. At this table Struensee, Brandt and the other ladies and gentlemen of the household generally dined, though the favourite was frequently commanded to the King’s table, and might have dined there every day if he had wished. But he generally preferred to hold a little court of his own in the “Chamber of the Rose,” and most of those present paid him far more homage than they paid the King. Struensee accepted it all as a matter of course; his head was already turned by his success, and indeed it was enough to turn any man’s head. Only two years before he had been in an obscure position, crippled with debt, and seriously thinking of quitting the country to repair his fortunes; now he was the all-powerful favourite of a Queen, and could make and unmake ministers as he would. Nothing was done without his consent, and the removal of the court from the capital to Hirschholm was dictated by him from reasons which the English envoy shrewdly guessed at the time:—
“Among other reasons assigned for this retreat,” writes Gunning, “one is said to be the desire of eluding the scrutiny of the public eye, which affects to penetrate somewhat further than is imagined to be [desirable]. Another cause of this retirement is supposed to be their Danish Majesties’ resolution of continuing inaccessible (which they have been for some time) to everybody except Mr Rantzau and the Favourite. And that, if certain dismissions are resolved upon, they may be effected with greater secrecy. Mr Bernstorff tells me that Mr Rantzau has frequent conferences with the French minister. He [Bernstorff] is more alarmed than he has ever yet appeared to be, but nevertheless seems willing to fortify himself with the favourable conclusions afforded by the levity and dissipation which mark the character of his adversaries, and builds upon the unanimity of the Council, which I hope is firmly grounded. He thinks, however, that while the influence prevails, irreparable mischief may be done, and he is at length convinced of a truth I wished him long since to have believed, namely—that which has been transacting is more than a court intrigue, and that [the Favourite] was the cause of all its movements.”[136]
[136] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, September 8, 1770.
Bernstorff was not long left in suspense as to his future. Struensee had now matured his plans and was ready to strike. Bernstorff was the first to go. Soon after the court arrived at Hirschholm the King was prevailed upon, without much difficulty, to write his Prime Minister an autograph letter in which he informed him that, as he intended to make changes in his system of government, he no longer required his services. He therefore dismissed him with a pension of 6,000 dollars a year, but gave him leave to retain his seat on the council. Bernstorff was seated at his desk in the foreign office when this letter was brought to him by a King’s messenger from Hirschholm; he read its contents in silence, and then turned to one of his secretaries and said: “I am dismissed from office. May the Almighty guide this country and its King.”