ENEVOLD BRANDT.
From a Miniature at Frederiksborg.
The next day, December 24, Christmas Eve, when the guards were drawn up in line, the King’s order for their disbandment and incorporation was read to them, and they were commanded to hand their colours over to the officers who were present from other regiments. The men refused, and when they saw their colours being taken away, they rushed forward in a body, and dragged them back by force, shouting: “They are our colours; we will part from them only with our lives.” The men were now in a state of mutiny. Their officers had withdrawn, unwilling to risk a contest with the authorities; so a non-commissioned officer assumed the command, and led the insurgents. They marched to the Christiansborg Palace, broke the gate open, drove away the guard stationed there, and took their places. Some of them were hindered from entering the palace by the other troops, who attempted to take them prisoners. The result was a free fight, and in the course of it one of the guardsmen was killed, and several soldiers were wounded. Copenhagen was in a state of riot. Meanwhile Falckenskjold hurried to Frederiksberg with the news of the mutiny. Once more Struensee was thrown into unreasoning panic, and quite unable to act. Brandt and Bülow, the Queen’s Master of the Horse, hurried to the Christiansborg, and endeavoured to appease the rebellious guards, but without success. The categorical reply was: “We must remain guards, or have our discharge. We will not be merged into other regiments.” It should be mentioned that they were picked men, and drawn from a superior class; they ranked with non-commissioned officers in other regiments, and such punishments as flogging could not be inflicted on them. The envoys returned to Frederiksberg with the news of their ill-success, and the terror of Struensee increased.
The guards now had a council of war, and it was resolved that a party of them should march to Frederiksberg, and request an interview with the King in person, as the Norwegian sailors had done. When the party set out, they found the western gate of the city closed and held against them; but at the northern gate the officer of the guard allowed them to pass. On the road to Frederiksberg they met the King driving, a postilion and an equerry formed his only escort, and Reverdil was alone with him in the carriage. The soldiers, who had no grievance against the King, formed into line and saluted him, and Christian, from whom the knowledge of the mutiny had been carefully kept, returned the salute. When the guards reached Frederiksberg, Struensee’s fears deepened into panic. As at Hirschholm, hurried preparations were made for flight, and orders were given to reinforce the palace guard. The whole of the army sympathised with the guards, and it may be doubted whether the soldiers would have resisted their comrades by force of arms. Fortunately, one of the officers of the guards had hurried before them to Frederiksberg to protest against extremities; he was now sent out by Struensee to parley with them in the King’s name. The men repeated their demand: they must remain guards, or receive their discharge. The officer went back to the palace, and pretended to see the King, in reality, he saw only Struensee. Presently he returned to inform the mutineers that the King did not wish to keep any men in his service against their will, and they were therefore discharged, and were at liberty to go where they pleased. The detachment thereupon returned to Christiansborg to report to their comrades, but these refused to trust a verbal statement, and requested that a written discharge should be handed to each man before they surrendered the palace.
General Gahler, who had disapproved of Struensee’s action throughout, and now feared there would be bloodshed, on hearing this went to Frederiksberg, and insisted that a written discharge for the whole body must be made out, duly signed and sealed by Struensee himself. This he brought back to the guards; but the men, imagining there was some deception, took exception to the form of the order, and the fact that the King had not signed it. When this was reported to him, Struensee lost patience, and threatened to storm the Christiansborg if the mutineers were not removed before midnight—a most imprudent threat, and one practically impossible to carry out, for the Queen-Dowager and Prince Frederick were occupying their apartments in the Christiansborg at the time, and no doubt secretly abetting the mutineers. Moreover, the whole of Copenhagen sided with the guards. Citizens sent in provisions, wines and spirits, in order that they might keep their Christmas in a festive manner; the sailors sent word that they would help the mutineers if the matter came to a crisis, and the gunners secretly conveyed to them the news that they would receive them into the arsenal and join them. Midnight struck, and still the mutineers held the palace. Struensee, finding his threat had no weight, then veered round to the other extreme, and was soon hastily filling up the required number of printed discharges, which were taken to the King to be signed one by one.
In the morning—Christmas morning—glad news came to the mutinous guards. All their demands were complied with, and more than complied with; a separate discharge, signed by the King, was presented to every guardsman, and a promise that three dollars would be paid him, and any advance he owed would be wiped off. So on Christmas morning the disbanded guards marched out of the Christiansborg, which they had occupied for twenty-four hours, and the danger was averted. The city continued in a great state of excitement all day, and some street fights took place, but nothing of importance. The King and Queen drove into Copenhagen to attend divine service at the royal chapel, as this was Christmas Day, and the fact was considered significant, for now they rarely went to church. Another concession was made to public opinion, for the following Sunday evening they were not present at the French play, as was usually the case.
Unfortunately, these attempts at conciliation, trifling though they were, came too late. The people had now made up their minds about Struensee; he was a coward and a bully, who would yield everything to violence, and nothing to reason. They had found him out; he was a lath painted to look like iron. His wanton attack upon the guards and subsequent capitulation filled the cup of his transgressions to the brim. It was said that at this time Keith thought fit to intervene. Hoping to shield his Sovereign’s sister from the danger which threatened her, he saw Struensee privately, and offered him a sum of money to quit the country. If this be true (and no hint of it appears in Keith’s despatches), it had no result, for Struensee still clung to his post. Rantzau, also, who had not quite settled his terms with the Queen-Dowager, and, true to his character, was ready to sell either side for the higher price, also saw Struensee, through the medium of the Swedish minister, and urged him to resign, or at least to reverse his whole system of policy; but Struensee would not listen, probably because Rantzau wanted money, and he did not wish to give it him. Still Rantzau did not desist; he went to Falckenskjold, and told him as much as he dared of a conspiracy against Struensee, and offered to help to detect it for a pecuniary consideration. Falckenskjold heard him coldly, and merely said: “In that case, you should address your remarks to Struensee himself.” “He will not listen to me,” said Rantzau, and turned away. From that moment Struensee’s luck turned away from him too.