[159] Some rough sketches of these little pictures—in water-colours—are preserved in the royal archives at Copenhagen.
The best answer to this charge against the Queen is to be found in the fact that the Crown Prince threw off his early weakness, grew up a strong and healthy boy, and developed into a vigorous man, who lived to a sound old age. All through his life the Crown Prince Frederick (who afterwards became Frederick VI.) was able to endure much more fatigue than an ordinary man, and he always adhered to the simple and frugal habits to which he had been inured when a child.
The King and Queen remained at Hirschholm until late in the autumn, and then removed to the castle of Frederiksberg, near Copenhagen. Struensee and Brandt accompanied them in close attendance. Struensee now was a permanent inmate of the royal palaces, and wherever the court went he went too—a special suite of rooms adjacent to, or communicating with, the Queen’s apartments were set apart for him.[160]
[160] The castle of Frederiksberg is not much changed to this day, and a secret door is still shown which, tradition says, led from Struensee’s apartments to those of the Queen.
At Frederiksberg the King and Queen lived in comparative retirement, but as unpleasant rumours were persistently promulgated about the King’s health, Struensee thought it well that Christian should occasionally show himself in public, and it was announced that the King and Queen would drive into Copenhagen every week to hold a court at the Christiansborg Palace. There was a general curiosity to see the King; but when the court was held he only appeared for a few minutes and spoke to nobody; the Queen then took his place and received the company alone. She was much mortified to see how the nobility and their wives held aloof from the court. But on reflection she could hardly have been surprised, for not only had recent legislation been directed against them, but the King had published a decree a few months before recommending the nobility to spend less time in the capital and more on their estates. Those who attended court now, outside the foreign envoys and the ministers and officials whose duties compelled them to be present, were chiefly the lesser and newer nobility, the professional classes and even the bourgeoisie. It was Matilda’s ambition to have a brilliant court. It was undoubtedly brilliant in the sense of display, and was largely attended, but the company who came could scarcely be said to add to its distinction.
The Crown Prince of Sweden (who afterwards ascended the throne as Gustavus III.) and his younger brother, the Hereditary Prince Frederick Adolphus, paid a visit to the King and Queen of Denmark at this time. The Crown Prince of Sweden had married Christian VII.’s elder sister, and this was his first visit to Copenhagen since his marriage. As Struensee’s foreign policy was to cultivate good relations with Sweden as against Russia, every effort was made to receive the princes with honour. A masquerade ball was arranged for their entertainment, plays and operas were performed at the theatre, and banquets, concerts and levees were held every day. Despite these efforts the Crown Prince of Sweden did not appear to be pleased with his reception, and he made audible comments on the strange company he met at the court of Copenhagen. At the masquerade, in particular, almost any one came who would. He pointedly asked the Queen what had become of the Danish nobility, several of whom he inquired for by name, and scarcely concealed his annoyance that they were not present to do him honour. One day, at the royal table, when he found that two or three of the wives of the principal merchants of Copenhagen were dining there, he sarcastically exclaimed, “And are there no Jews and Jewesses here too?” On another occasion a beautiful lady of the bourgeoisie rallied the Prince politely for not having acknowledged her obeisance, and he answered elaborately (in the hearing of the Queen) that he could not understand how the Swedish envoy had made such an oversight, for he had strictly ordered him to present every lady of noble rank who attended the Danish court, and he could only suppose the minister had forgotten as he had presented so few. These sarcasms were very wounding to the Queen, and her pride was much hurt. The Crown Prince of Sweden and his brother treated the King and Queen with studied deference, but they declined to regard Struensee in any other light than that of a man of almost menial birth, who might be useful to them politically. Struensee, who had arrogated to himself a foremost place at the Danish court, was incensed at thus being put outside the charmed circle, and vented his ill-humour on the Queen, who was sufficiently mortified on her own account. It was a relief to every one when the visit ended, and the Swedish princes betook themselves to Gottorp to stay with Prince Charles of Hesse, and amaze him and his wife with an account of the extraordinary proceedings of the court of Copenhagen. This was the only royal visit paid to the Danish court during Matilda’s regime, and it gave her no taste for others.
The state of the King’s mind made any repetition of this experience impossible, for Christian VII. was no longer able to play the host to royal guests. One of the current rumours was that Struensee and the court physician, Berger, who was his creature, tampered with the King’s health, and gave him drugs which dulled his understanding. Certainly, when the King appeared in public his dejected air and extreme indifference to everything that was going on around him gave colour to the report—which was not true. The fact was that the condition of Christian by this time had become hopeless; his mind had partly given way, and the greatest care was taken by the Queen and Struensee lest this should be discovered. For if the King were proved to be incapable of governing, what force had the decrees issued in his name? But the King was declared to be in perfect health, and the fiction of his absolutism was rigidly maintained. On the strength of this, sometimes, impudent demands were made upon him, when Brandt was out of the way.
For instance, one of the King’s pages drove his master into a corner, and said to him, “Your Majesty, make me a groom of the chamber”. Nor would he let the King out until he had granted his request, and the royal word once spoken could not be recalled. Occasionally the King aired his authority in a way which his keepers did not approve, and now and then a ray of intelligence crossed his brain which found expression in satire, and made Struensee fear that perhaps the King was not quite so imbecile as he looked. One day Christian, who wished for nothing but to amuse himself, had been worried to sign commissions appointing several new conference councillors, creatures of Struensee, who had little or no qualification for their posts. The King that evening at dinner kicked his favourite dog “Gourmand,” who was lying at his feet, and asked, “Can you bark?” and when the dog began yelping, the King said, “As you can bark, you shall be a conference councillor too”. He thereupon rose and proposed the health of “Councillor Gourmand,” to which all present had to drink. He also gave the dog a salary, which had to be paid regularly from the treasury. Struensee’s enemies regarded the incident as a bitter joke on the part of the King, and nicknamed the Minister “Gourmand”.
On another occasion when Christian had been forced to appoint a man, whom he disliked, a chamberlain, he revenged himself by making one of the palace menials a chamberlain too. The man, whose duty it was to light the stoves, came into the royal apartment just after Christian had been worried into signing the paper. “Hullo, my good fellow, would you like to be a chamberlain?” cried the King. The man grinned sheepishly, and, to humour his master, answered that he would not mind. “Very well,” said the King, “you shall be one: come with me.” He took the servant by the hand, and led him just as he was, in his yellow blouse, into the great hall, where the Queen, Struensee and all the court were assembled, walked him to the middle of the room, and shouted in a loud voice: “I appoint this man my chamberlain”. As the theory that the King was absolute had to be kept up at all hazards, the man became a chamberlain forthwith. Struensee, however, hit on a device next day for getting out of the difficulty, and bought the title back from the man for the price of a small farm some distance from the capital, whither he was despatched as soon as possible.
It was difficult to guard against these contretemps, for the King’s condition varied considerably; some days he was quite sane and lucid in his conversation, so that no one would imagine that there was anything the matter with him; on others he was to all intents and purposes a madman. But his keepers never knew when the mania would break out, and it sometimes showed itself at most inconvenient seasons. One day when the Queen was holding a levee (it having been announced that the King did not feel well enough to be present), the door suddenly opened, and the King, who had managed to evade the vigilance of Brandt, walked into the room, and waving his hand to the assembled court, peremptorily commanded silence. The conversation was at once hushed, and the Queen, pale and trembling, wondered what was coming next. The King, with great earnestness, recited The Warning Ode to Princes, by the famous poet, Klopstock, a poem peculiarly suitable under the circumstances. When it was finished, he again waved his hand to the company, burst into a laugh, and walked out of the room. It was probably after this incident that Gunning wrote:—