1771.
The Queen’s love for Struensee was not lessened by the discovery that her idol had feet of clay, but she lost some of her blind faith in his power to mould all things to his will. She once told her ladies that “If a woman truly loved a man, she ought to follow him, even though it were to hell”; it seemed likely that her words would before long be put to the test. During those autumn days at Hirschholm, when the popular discontent seethed to the very doors of the palace, the Queen came out of her fool’s paradise and realised that she and her favourite were living on a volcano that might at any moment erupt and overwhelm them. She frequently discussed with her court, half in jest and half in earnest, what they should do when the catastrophe came. Once at the royal table the Queen laughingly suggested to her friends the advisability of all taking flight together, and each began to consider what he, or she, would do to gain a livelihood in exile. The Queen, who had a very sweet voice, and played on the harpsichord, said she would turn singer, for she was sure by that means she would never starve. Struensee said he would take a lonely farm, and devote himself to agriculture and the consolations of philosophy. Brandt said he should turn his dramatic talents to use, and become the acting manager of a theatre. “And as for you, my fair lady,” he said to one of the Queen’s ladies, probably Madame Gahler, “with your peerless form, you need do nothing, but simply sit as a model for artists.” The lady winced, and the rest of the company laughed, for it was known, though she was very beautiful, that she had a defect in her figure, which she was at great pains to conceal. Despite this levity in public, they were all secretly uneasy, and brooded much over the situation in private. Except the Queen, who thought only of Struensee, each one sought how he might save himself—if necessary at the expense of his fellows.
Struensee was thrown into a fresh panic by the appearance of a placard setting a price upon his head, which was posted up by night in the principal street of Copenhagen, and ran:—
“As the traitor Struensee continues to ill-treat our beloved King, to mock his faithful subjects, and to seize with force and injustice more and more of the royal authority, which the Danish people have entrusted to their King alone, this Struensee and his adherents are hereby declared outlawed. The man who puts an end to this traitor’s life shall receive five hundred dollars reward, his name kept secret, and a royal pardon granted him.”[10]
[10] Translated from the original document now preserved in the royal archives at Copenhagen.
According to Keith this placard was probably a hoax, but it had a dire effect upon Struensee. “A paper,” Keith writes, “was fixed up in the public squares of this city, setting a price upon his head, and this stratagem—for I can only look upon it as such—had like to have produced a very strange effect, as I am assured for some days he was preparing to leave Denmark, and that the appearance of fifty men in a threatening manner would have decided his flight.”[11] But Keith was far more prejudiced against Struensee than Gunning was, and he may have exaggerated.
[11] Keith’s despatch, Copenhagen, November 18, 1771.
Struensee at this time certainly considered the possibility of flight; he spoke to Reverdil on the subject, and declared that he was only prevented by his devotion to the Queen, who, if he deserted her, would again become the victim of intrigue. But probably Brandt’s reasoning weighed more with him. “Whither would you go,” said Brandt, “where you would be Prime Minister and favourite of a Queen?” Whither indeed? Struensee’s enemies sought to frighten him into resignation. But they little knew their man. He would cling to office and power until they were wrenched from his grasp. Thinking himself secure behind the shelter of the Queen he did not heed the plots of the Queen-Dowager and the nobles against his authority. What he dreaded was assassination, or an insurrection of the people. Keith, a foreigner, took something of the same view: “The persons who are most incensed against this Ministry,” he wrote, “seem both by their principles and their timidity inclined to pursue their ends by dark and secret methods, and if they are to succeed at all, it must be by seizing a moment of popular frenzy and striking their blow all at once.”[12] Brandt, though he counselled Struensee to stay, was really very uneasy at the aspect of affairs: “I wish all this would come to an end,” he said one day to Falckenskjold, “for I have a foreboding that this regime will soon be overthrown.” “You will fare badly if it is,” replied Falckenskjold. “Oh,” said Brandt, “I have studied law, and shall be able to take care of myself.”
[12] Keith’s despatch, Copenhagen, September, 1771.