[175] Memoirs of Sir Robert Murray Keith, vol. i.
Shortly after the arrival of Keith at Copenhagen another person reappeared upon the scene. Reverdil, the Swiss, was recalled to the Danish court, after an absence of three years. His return was due to the fact that Brandt had become tired of his position as sole guardian of the King. Christian VII. was a troublesome charge; he was often morose and sometimes quarrelsome, and a good deal of friction arose between him and Brandt, until the latter found his post exceedingly wearisome. He often left the King in charge of Moranti, a black boy, whom Christian dressed in uniform and made an inseparable companion. Meanwhile Brandt amused himself with the beautiful Countess Holstein, one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, with whom he had an amour. Gallantry, music and the dance were much more congenial to him than the society of the semi-imbecile King. He therefore told Struensee that he must find some one else to take his place, or at least relieve him in part of his duties. Struensee was reluctant that Brandt should resign his position as permanent attendant to the King, for it was necessary to keep him closely guarded from outside influence. But as Brandt insisted, after some reflection, Struensee resolved to recall Reverdil, who, if not his friend, was at least free from any intrigue against his authority.
QUEEN MATILDA AND HER SON, THE CROWN PRINCE OF DENMARK.
From the Painting at the Rosenborg, Copenhagen.
Reverdil was much astonished when he received a letter from Struensee saying that the King of Denmark desired his return to court, and wished to resume with him the scheme for enfranchising the serfs, and asked him to name his own terms. Reverdil demurred a little at first, and pleaded for time to consider the offer. He communicated with a trusted friend in Copenhagen, and also asked the advice of Count Bernstorff, who was living in retirement at Grabow, near Borstel. Reverdil’s friend at Copenhagen sent him a list of persons who had been appointed and dismissed during Struensee’s administration, and gave him to understand that if he accepted the office he would hold it on a very precarious tenure. Bernstorff, though greatly prejudiced against Struensee, urged Reverdil to go, for the King had need of him, and it was his duty to succour the unfortunate Sovereign. He wrote him a long letter, the gist of which may be summed up in the following quotation:—
“Go to Copenhagen, appear at court, but do not enter into engagements until you have reconnoitred the ground for yourself. If you can do good, do not refuse to do it for a country that needs it. May Heaven grant you merit and glory; but if you see that the means are refused you, do not allow yourself to be drawn into any subordinate, doubtful and odious employment, dictated by harsh, dishonest evil-doers. Do not allow your name to be associated with the names of men about whom the nation is already weeping and posterity will weep for a long time.”[176]
[176] Letter of Bernstorff to Reverdil, June 9, 1771. Mémoires de Reverdil.
Reverdil determined to follow Bernstorff’s advice, and wrote to Struensee accepting the post on the conditions that he might return home when he thought proper, and the King should pay his travelling expenses both ways. On his journey to Copenhagen, especially in the duchies, Reverdil was struck with the hatred and odium which the name of Struensee inspired among all classes. At Schleswig he met the Princess-Dowager of Culmbach, the great-aunt by marriage of the King, and the Prince and Princess Charles of Hesse. They all lamented the terrible state of things at the Danish court, the insolence of the favourite, and the infatuation of the Queen, and agreed that such an intolerable state of affairs could not long be allowed to continue. The thought appears to have crossed Reverdil’s mind to turn back, but upon reflection he dismissed it, and proceeded on his journey.
Reverdil reported himself at Hirschholm in July (1771). He relates in his Memoirs that he was received by Brandt, who welcomed him with effusion, and told him of the King’s wretched mental condition, of the necessity he had of a constant companion, and his desire that Reverdil should fill the place, since both he and the King had grown weary of one another. Reverdil listened in silence and without enthusiasm. He was then presented to the King and the Queen, who received him with great cordiality. The Queen spoke to him kindly, as, indeed, had always been her wont, and the King was very civil, nothing in what he said revealing his malady. Reverdil was invited to dine at the royal table, and after dinner was admitted to private audience of the King. Christian made some sort of apology for his abrupt dismissal of Reverdil three years ago, and threw the blame of it on Holck. The King’s manner and speech were those of a perfectly sane man, and he appeared to talk quite freely and without constraint. Reverdil had been told in the provinces that every word the King said was dictated to him beforehand by the favourites, but no sign of this was visible in his conversation. The next day Reverdil took a drive with the King and Brandt. Brandt treated the King with scant respect; he occupied the whole of the back of the carriage, and lounged out of the window, that all might see him who passed by. The poor King crouched up in a corner of the other seat with a sad and frightened air, and seemed glad when the drive was over.
Reverdil now entered upon his duties, and remained alone with the King in his apartments. Before long Christian’s mania manifested itself, despite his efforts to conceal it. His mind began to wander, and he broke out into rapid and incoherent speech. Occasionally he would recite lines from Zaire, in which he had acted years before; often he would address Reverdil as “Brandt,” sometimes as “Denize” or “Latour”—two French actors who had been in his service—sometimes by his right name. Now and then he would vaunt himself, and recall the fact that he had been greeted like a god by the English nation, and declare that his glory and magnificence were above those of all other kings on earth. On other occasions he would become depressed and melancholy, and belittle himself, saying that no matter what he did he would never be more than a “little man” of no reputation. He talked much about his infirmities, and sometimes threatened to commit suicide. “Shall I drown myself?” he would say. “Shall I throw myself out of the window, or dash out my brains against the wall?” But this was only talk, for the King feared death greatly. For instance, one day when they were in a boat on the small lake round the palace of Hirschholm, the King said to Reverdil with a look of despair: “I should like to throw myself into the lake”; but he added as a quick after-thought: “and be pulled out again directly”. He was aware of his mania, and strove hard to overcome it, but in vain. There were three marked degrees which he indicated by three German expressions. The first was: “Ich bin confus” (I am confused); the second: “Es rappelt bei mir” (There is a noise in my head); and the third: “Er ist ganz übergeschnappt” (I am quite beside myself). And often he would declare: “I can bear it no longer”.