There was undoubtedly some jealousy mingled with this dislike of the Empress Catherine for a woman she had never seen. “The Semiramis of the North” regarded herself as one to whom the ordinary rules of life and conduct did not apply, nor even the immutable laws of right and wrong. She was a woman of destiny, a sublime figure, above, beyond and apart from all meaner mortals. Yet this foolish Matilda with her bourgeois favourite and paltry intrigues had presumed to challenge comparison with one who was incomparable, and even to imitate her idiosyncrasies. Like Catherine, Matilda rode astride in masculine attire; like Catherine, she donned the uniform of a colonel, marched at the head of her regiment, and fired a musket with unerring aim. True, Matilda had only one favourite where Catherine had many, but he was one who gathered up (in her estimation and his own) the charm of a Poniatowski, the bravery of an Orloff, the genius of a Panteomkine, the ardour of a Korssakof, and the beauty of a Lansköi.[146] Struensee was responsible for this somewhat burlesque imitation of the Empress; he held before the Queen’s dazzled eyes the vision of another woman ruling her people with consummate ability to the admiration of Europe, and Matilda was weak enough to listen to his flattery.
[146] Favourites of Catherine the Great.
Catherine regarded the attempts of the Queen of Denmark to follow in her steps as preposterous, and the anti-Russian policy as impertinent. The Empress did not at first treat it seriously, but the limit of this presumptuous folly (in her opinion) was reached when the news came to St. Petersburg that her former co-conspirator and later her declared enemy, Count Rantzau, had been taken into favour by the Danish court, and given an appointment in the Government. Then the anger of Catherine, as Bernstorff predicted, knew no bounds. She regarded the appointment of Rantzau as an insult, and sent instructions to Filosofow to represent her displeasure in the strongest terms to the court of Copenhagen. Filosofow, who was already goaded to the point of madness by the humiliations heaped on him by Struensee, performed his mistress’s behest with such violence and so many expletives that the Queen strongly resented his bullying tone, and his further residence at Copenhagen became impossible. For this, as the English envoy wrote, “they [the court of St. Petersburg] will be in a great measure indebted to their own conduct—disgusting this court by an open attack on Monsieur Rantzau, whose character, let his intentions be what they will, ought to have been too well known to them to give rise to any great apprehensions”.[147] Filosofow demanded his recall, which was granted, and before leaving requested a private audience of the King. But this was refused by Struensee, who had made up his mind that henceforth foreign envoys should have no more private audiences with the King behind his back. Filosofow was told that he could only see the King at an ordinary court, when he could take leave of his Majesty. The haughty Russian replied that his health would not allow him to be present, and he left Copenhagen without taking leave of any of the royal family. Thus was Struensee avenged upon his enemy.
[147] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, February 12, 1771.
Gunning rightly regarded the Russian envoy’s withdrawal from the Danish court as the result of an intrigue, which had its origin in the insult offered to Struensee a year before.
“This intrigue,” he wrote, “sprang originally from an insuperable disgust her Danish Majesty conceived against the person of Mr Saldern and latterly against that of Mr Filosofow.... The latter, though a man of great honour and worth, from a want of sufficient knowledge of the world, and from being perhaps too sensible of the splendour and power of the Empress, his mistress, studied not enough that refinement of behaviour which was to be expected in a public character, and through absence and inattention committed a piece of rudeness on a certain occasion to the Favourite which his self-love (as indeed the self-love of any other man might have done) induced him to impute to design. The wound rankled in his heart, and I will venture to say the sense of it was not confined to his own feelings. Her Danish Majesty was pleased to think much the worse of Mr Filosofow for it. In short the affront was never forgiven, and the second Russian minister became equally, nay, more, obnoxious to the Queen than the first.”[148]
[148] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, April 4, 1771.
Struensee, now that he had gratified his personal animosity, had no wish to become embroiled in a war with Russia. He thought that the dispute had gone far enough, and it would be better to build for the Empress Catherine a golden bridge, over which she might retreat with dignity from a position which had become untenable. But unfortunately for his plans he resolved to conduct the negotiations himself, for he had not yet appointed a Foreign Secretary to take the place of Bernstorff. It was only in the department of foreign affairs that Struensee found himself at sea, not in regard to his policy, for his mind was clear as to that, but with regard to the forms and phrases usually observed in communications between courts and monarchs. He had no training for this kind of work, and until the last two years had no communication, direct or indirect, with princes and potentates. His ignorance of forms and etiquette was equalled by his contempt for them. But it could not be supposed that the King, his master, was ignorant of these forms, and since communications with foreign sovereigns had to be made nominally through him, errors of this nature revealed either that the King had not been consulted, or he had not written the letters issued with his name. Christian VII. perhaps took a malicious pleasure in Struensee’s ignorance, or he was too indifferent to correct the glaring errors in letters signed by him, for many absurd mistakes occurred.
Struensee thought that a personal letter from the King of Denmark would appease the anger of Catherine, and he therefore drew up one of these strange documents which purported to come from Christian. But he was so ignorant of the ordinary usage that he began it “Madame” instead of “Madame my sister,” and ended as though it had come from a subject, “I have the honour to be, Madame, your Imperial Majesty’s very humble and obedient servant,” a preposterous ending to a letter from one sovereign to another. The letter contained a good deal of irrelevant matter, but the gist of it was an apology for the King’s refusal of a private audience to the Empress’s minister, “under the pretext,” writes Gunning, “that one having been already denied to the Swedish minister, it could not have been consistently granted to the Russian minister, and further, that the audiences which have been so often given, and were now almost claimed by the Russian minister, ought to have been considered more as a matter of courtesy than that of right. But had Monsieur Filosofow appeared in the court circle, his Majesty would probably have called him into the closet.” The English envoy adds: “Though perhaps this apology will not bear the test of a too strict examination, yet as it shows an earnest desire of acceding on his Danish Majesty’s part, it may be wished the Empress may suffer herself to be appeased by it”.[149]
[149] Gunning’s despatch, Copenhagen, January 10, 1771.