The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
LIFE AND TIMES
OF
HER MAJESTY
CAROLINE MATILDA,
QUEEN OF DENMARK AND NORWAY,
AND
SISTER OF H. M. GEORGE III. OF ENGLAND,
FROM FAMILY DOCUMENTS AND PRIVATE STATE ARCHIVES.
BY
Sir C. F. LASCELLES WRAXALL, Bart.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
Wm. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
1864.
[All Rights reserved.]
LEWIS AND SON, PRINTERS, SWAN BUILDINGS, MOORGATE STREET.
TO
HIS MAJESTY CHRISTIAN THE NINTH,
KING OF DENMARK.
INTRODUCTION.
——♦——
If there be a story which may be supposed to be thoroughly familiar to the reading public, it is surely that of the Queen of Denmark, who is believed to have loved not wisely but too well. The fate of Struensee has supplied the motive for countless works more or less historical, for novels, and even for an opera. Hence it might reasonably be assumed that the man who ventured on intruding on the English public another work on such a thoroughly worn-out topic, must be either very impudent or very foolish; and yet I have ventured to do so through neither of these failings, but for reasons which have been duly weighed, and which appear to my mind to convey their justification.
The first of these motives is, that within a very recent period a perfectly new light has been thrown on the whole affair, by permission being granted to examine the privy archives of Copenhagen. From these I have been enabled to derive the hitherto unpublished documents and reports of the judges, and thus prove on what worthless evidence the divorce of the queen was passed. At the same time, a great deal of fresh matter has been rendered available about the two unhappy men who fell victims to a mistaken sense of justice.
The late King of Denmark, who wisely thought that publicity was the best safeguard of thrones, also allowed the "Mémoires de mon Temps" of the Landgrave Charles of Hesse Cassel, brother-in-law of Christian VII., to be printed for private circulation. I have been enabled to procure a copy of this work through the kindness of Baron von Jenssen Tusch, who obtained it from the Prince of Augustenburg; and the many curious details of the Court of Denmark it contains have been woven largely into my text. Another work which has afforded me very material assistance is the "Memoirs of Reverdil, Secretary to Christian VII.," which appeared two or three years ago, but is little known in this country.
Lastly, the private journals of Sir N. W. Wraxall have been laid under contribution to a great extent. It was made known by the publication of the "Post-humous Memoirs" that he had been connected with the Queen of Denmark, but it was only during last year that I discovered how much my grandfather knew of the affair, and how well he had kept silence on the subject. I have ransacked his journals, correspondence, &c., in the interests of the present work, and these have enabled me, I hope, to bring together much not hitherto known, or, if known, forgotten.
As a humble follower of Lord Macaulay, I have also recognised the value of pamphlets and chap-books, and have been able to obtain, with some cost and trouble, nearly everything published on the palace revolution during 1772 and 1773, in Germany, Denmark, and England. I have also considered it my duty to consult every work at all connected with the subject, and do not think that any one has been omitted.
Whether it has been in my power to prove the innocence of the Queen of Denmark is a question for my readers to decide. I, however, take some credit to myself for publishing for the first time the letter which she wrote on her death-bed to her brother. This letter passed through the hands of the late King of Hanover to the Duchess of Augustenburg, from whom my copy is derived.
Lastly, I have to return my hearty thanks to the many kind friends, at home and abroad, who have aided me in my researches, or directed me where to make them. I should be most ungrateful if I did not single out Mr. Emanuel Deutsch, of the British Museum, who examined the MSS. department thoroughly on my behalf, even though he drew a blank. The same, I regret to say, proved the case at the State Paper Office, while the Foreign Office, where there was a prospect of a successful find in the despatches of Messieurs Gunning and Keith, remained hermetically closed to me. It was some compensation for this refusal to find Sir Augustus Paget, our envoy at Copenhagen, at all times ready to assist me, and even to procure me scarce books from the Danish Minister of Foreign Affairs. It is but fair to add, that all the officials of our Foreign Office to whom I applied in turn for admission to their archives, deplored their inability to break through a rule which, for the interests of honest literary research, would be far more honoured in the breach than in the observance.
LASCELLES WRAXALL.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
——♦——
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF WALES.
PAGE
Death of the Prince of Wales—His Character—His Epitaph—The Eighteenth Century—Birth of Caroline Matilda—Lord Bute—Melcombe's Diary—The Great No-Popery Cry—Character of George III.—Majority of the Prince of Wales—Court Cabals—Miss Chudleigh—Horace, Prince of Scandalia 1
MARRIAGE OF CAROLINE MATILDA.
The Youth of Caroline Matilda—Memoirs of an Unfortunate Queen—Education of the Princess—Specimens of her Correspondence—Proposal of Marriage—Caroline Matilda's Feelings—The Royal Assent—Death of the King of Denmark—Public Opinion—The Marriage Portion—The Marriage—Farewell to England—Landing in Denmark—Enthusiastic Reception 33
THE DANISH COURT.
Birth of Christian VII.—Death of his Mother—Juliana Maria—The Chronique Scandaleuse—A Severe Task-Master—The Prince's Education—Reverdil—Curious Delusions—The King's Illness and Death—Accession of Christian—Court Intrigues—The Triumvirate—Royal Marriages 50
THE HAPPY COUPLE.
The Meeting at Roeskilde—Entrance into Copenhagen—The Queen's Household—The Royal Family—Court Amusements—Travelling Impressions—The Coronation—The First Quarrel—The King goes to Holstein—Death of the Duke of York—Milady—Reverdil leaves the Court—The New Favourite—Strange Conduct of the King 83
THE KING ON HIS TRAVELS.
Birth of the Crown Prince—Behaviour of the King—Removal of Milady—Enevold Brandt—Dismissal of the Grande Maîtresse—Baron Schimmelmann—Brandt's Attack on Holck—His Banishment—The King's Journey—The Holstein-Gottorp Exchange—Struensee appointed Physician—Arrival in England 108
CHRISTIAN IN ENGLAND.
George III.—The Journey to Town—The Stable Yard—Horace Walpole—The First Meeting of the Kings—The Princess of Wales—Festivities—Christian made a D.C.L.—The City Banquet—The Bill of Fare—The Ball in the Haymarket—Christian takes Leave—Anecdotes 134
CHRISTIAN IN PARIS.
Caroline Matilda at Home—Court Intrigues—France under Louis XV.—Manners of the Eighteenth Century—The Dubarry—French Ladies—Casanova—Louis XV. and Christian—Festivities—Poetical Flummery—Christian's Private Amusements—The Homeward Journey—Return to Copenhagen 159
JOHN FREDERICK STRUENSEE.
The Interim Ministry—State of the Nation—The King's Health—The Duke of Gloucester—Struensee—His Education and Career—His Friends—Schack zu Rantzau—The Travelling Surgeon—The Court Doctor—The Parties at Court—Plans of Caroline Matilda 188
THE COURT DOCTOR.
The Queen's Illness—The New Doctor—The Favourite—Court Revels—The Small-Pox—The Queen's Friend—A Trip to Holstein—Recall of Brandt—Sad Scenes at Court—Downfall Holck—Rantzau-Ascheberg—The Foreign Envoys—Presentation of Colours 215
THE QUEEN'S FRIEND.
The Princess of Wales—Mother and Daughter—George III.—The Cabal—The War with Algiers—The Palace of Hirschholm—Fall of the Premier—Proposed Reforms—Struensee's Maxims—The Council of State—The Royal Hunt—A Lovely Woman—Brandt's Folly 246
THE MASTER OF REQUESTS.
Education of the Crown Prince—Frederick VI.—Condition of the King—A Royal Squabble—The Swedish Princes—The Foundling Hospital—Count von der Osten—The Empress Catharine—Suppression of the Privy Council—The Grand Vizier—The Council of Conferences—The Free Press 286
THE GREAT REFORMER.
Establishment of the Lottery—The King's Birthday—The Order of Matilda—Von Falckenskjold—The Russian Quarrel—The Civic Council—Court Retrenchment—The College of Finances—Rosenborg Gardens—The Gardes du Corps—Struensee's Pusillanimity—Negociations with Russia—Rumours of War 311
THE CABINET MINISTER.
Birth of a Princess—The Cabinet Minister—The Lex Regia—General Dissatisfaction—The New Counts—Struensee's Coat of Arms—Foreign Affairs—A Favourite has no Friends—The German Grievance—A Dangerous Foe—Ingratitude of Brandt—Return of Reverdil—Arrival at Court—Homicidal Mania—The King of Prussia—Habits of the Court—The Prince Royal 342
LIFE AND TIMES
OF
CAROLINE MATILDA.
——♦——
CHAPTER I.
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS OF WALES.
DEATH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES—HIS CHARACTER—HIS EPITAPH—THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY—BIRTH OF CAROLINE MATILDA—LORD BUTE—MELCOMBE'S DIARY—THE GREAT NO-POPERY CRY—CHARACTER OF GEORGE III.—MAJORITY OF THE PRINCE OF WALES—COURT CABALS—MISS CHUDLEIGH—HORACE, PRINCE OF SCANDALIA.
On a March evening, in 1751, the beau monde of London was gently agitated by the news that Frederick, Prince of Wales, had just expired, at his house in Leicester Fields. He died somewhat suddenly, and in the arms of one Desnoyers, a French dancing master, who, having been called in to soothe the prince's mind by playing the fiddle at his bedside, had the honour of holding him in his arms during the final struggle. Orpheus, we read, could charm savage beasts by the sound of his lyre; but the violin, however eloquently played, had no authority over tyrant Death. The prince had received a blow in the side from a cricket-ball some months previously, while playing at that game on the lawn of Cliefden House. This had formed an internal abscess, which eventually burst, and the discharge suffocated him.[1]
The prince's death created no great sensation. It is notorious that he had long been on bad terms with his royal father; but that is too common a thing in German regnant houses to deserve comment: in such, the rule divide et impera is carried out logically; that is to say, the father tyrannises, and commands his son to join the Opposition, in order, in any event, to keep the power in the family, should the over-taut bow-string snap.
Frederick, Prince of Wales, at an early age was instructed in the noble art of hunting with the dogs and howling with the wolves; and the historical searcher comes across amusing instances of his pseudo liberalism. One of the most remarkable, was his reply to the City addresses on the birth of his eldest son, when he had the audacity to say—doubtless, with his tongue in his cheek—"My son, I hope, may come in time to deserve the gratitude of a free people; and it shall be my constant care to instruct him that true loyalty can only be the result of liberty." I really cannot feel surprised at his father detesting the hypocrite so thoroughly.
The fulness of pride which made George III. declare, in his first speech after ascending the throne, that, "born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of Briton,"[2] had been fostered by his father from a very early age. A curious instance of this will be found in the following extract from a prologue to Cato, which was put in the lad's mouth on January 4, 1749, in a representation of that play by the royal family at Leicester House. After making a tremendous panegyric on liberty, the boy goes on to say—
"Should this superior to my years be thought,
Know—'tis the first great lesson I was taught.
What! tho' a boy! it may with pride be said:
A boy,—in England born,—in England bred;
Where freedom well becomes the earliest state;
For there the laws of liberty innate," &c. &c.
It may fairly be assumed that this boast was produced with such reiteration less through a feeling of sincerity than a desire of instituting odorous comparisons with the lad's grandpapa, who did not enjoy the honour of being born a Briton. George II., who with all his faults was no hypocrite, saw through this amiable purpose, and detested his son the more.
Besides, George II., though a worthy little man in some respects, was not remarkable for amiability of temper; and though he professed to be devotedly attached to his wife—after her death—his affection during her life was considerably suggested by that unconscious dread which a stupid husband has of a wife who is not only clever herself, but competent to gauge her husband's stupidity.[3] Still, with all his grievances against his son—and they were, doubtless, many—he ought to have studied proprieties a little more, when he heard of Prince Frederick's death; and that horrid "Fritz ist todt," whispered in the ear of the Countess of Yarmouth, displays an unforgiving spirit, hardly to be reconciled with the generally generous temper of George II.; for, like most peppery men, he was good natured.[4]
I have waded through all the authorities who have left us any account of the prince, and the conclusion arrived at is only a negative one. Lord Melcombe may be put out of court at once, for he evidently wrote under the influence of that feeling of gratitude which has been defined as a lively sense of favours to come. Having been bubbled by the father, he did not intend to spoil his game with the son,—especially as that son was the future fountain of all honours. But Frederick owed a great many of his bad qualities to this Bubb Dodington, who in more than one respect resembled the sillabub to which my Lord Chesterfield compared him; for he was sweet, cloying, and left a very unpleasant taste in the mouth. Surrounded by flatterers and sycophants, Frederick had just sufficient sense to see that he was being made a tool of; and he learned the art himself to perfection. It has been urged in his favour, that he patronised literature and art; but if he obtained any credit on that account, it was on the same principle as makes a one-eyed man a king among the blind. He condescended to visit Pope at Twickenham; and, in return, the poet immortalised him, by the delicate allusion conveyed in the two lines—
"And if yet higher the proud list should end,
Still, let me add, no follower but a friend."
But, granted this merit, the remaining qualities that make up the character of Frederick are of the most negative type. He was a spendthrift: he borrowed money unblushingly, careless as to where he obtained it, and with the very faintest expectation of repaying it. Though a father of seven children, he lived in open adultery with a lady, whose house in Pall Mall had a secret communication with Carlton House. He was pretty frequently in the habit of paying visits to fortune-tellers; and would go in disguise to see the bull-baiting at Hockley-in-the-Hole. Such is the residuum, when we take away the prestige of princely birth. Nor, had Frederick the good fortune to excite a hearty detestation, except in the case of his father: the people, generally, treated his death with the most profound contempt. Two men were heard talking of his decease in Leicester Fields:—"He has left a great many small children." "Ay," replied the other; "and, what is worse, they belong to our parish."[5] We may safely say of him, in the courtly language of Sir W. Wraxall: "As far as we are authorised, from these premisses, to form a conclusion, his premature death before he ascended the throne ought not to excite any great national regret." But his memory will live forever, in connection with the stinging epigram, in which the Tory feeling toward the Hanoverian race is so wonderfully depicted:—
"Here lies Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead.
Had it been his father,
I had much rather.
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another.
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her.
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation.
But since 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead,
There's no more to be said."
And yet, bad though Frederick indubitably was, and deficient in almost every quality that constitutes the gentleman, we must not be too hard on him. The manners of the age made him what he was; and he would have been a wonderfully strong-minded man had he resisted their influence. It may be a trite remark, but I fancy that nothing strikes the historical student more than the change of manners that has taken place in so short a period. When I was a boy, I remember being told by an old female relative that she could perfectly well remember the coronation of George III. In her presence, the reigns of George II. and William IV. seemed to shake hands, and yet what a chasm existed between them. The greater portion of the eighteenth century was a Tophet; we need only read Casanova's Memoirs to see what it was on the Continent; but in England it strikes us even more offensively, because here vice stalked forth with its brazen brow uncovered. In France, on the other hand, there was something Watteau-esque about it, and a slightly redeeming grace. It is true that England had the great blessing of an industrious middle class, among which moral views and the honest customs of Puritanism were maintained; but the aristocratic classes were utterly corrupt. The Hanoverian dynasty introduced, among other blessings, the sauer-kraut tone of German pauper nobility; and its coarseness easily found access among a people in whom every feeling of decency had been destroyed by the fabulously shameless comedians of the Restoration. The family life of the two first Georges was one long offence against propriety. Between the first George and his son the feeling of hatred was so extreme, that, after the death of the former, a document was found in his cabinet containing the proposition and plan to seize the Prince of Wales and ship him off to the colonies, where he could be easily got rid of. When we remember, too, the mistresses whom George I. brought in his train from Hanover—the "Elephant," that enormous lump of flesh, Sophie Freifrau von Kielmansegge, and the "Maypole," her tall, thin rival, the Gräfin Melusine von Eberstein—we can easily understand the coarseness which appears deep-rooted in English society far into the eighteenth century. One thing we may say in favour of this society, that no hypocrisy was displayed. When Lady Dorchester, ex-mistress of James II., once met in her old days, in George I.'s ante-chamber, the Duchess of Portsmouth, ex-mistress of Charles II., and Lady Orkney, ex-mistress of William III., she exclaimed, loudly enough to be heard by all persons, "Good God! who ever could have supposed that we three (well, suppose I say Traviati, as better suited to the age than the plump word employed by her ladyship) should meet at this place?" George II.'s sensible and virtuous wife strove in vain to introduce a more decent tone into polite society; and vice was still rampant far into the reign of her well-meaning grandson.
Early in the eighteenth century, polite society added to its other accomplishments that of the wildest gambling, to which the South-Sea Bubble gave the impulse. At White's, young gentlemen frequently lost in one evening from £5 to £20,000; and at the Cocoa Tree, one night, there was a single stake of £180,000. The unbounded betting mania among the bucks was often displayed in the quaintest forms. Thus, for instance, in 1756, Lords Rockingham and Oxford got up a race between four geese and four turkeys from Norwich to London. English "eccentricity," as the French would call it, had the fullest scope at that time. Take, for instance, Lord Baltimore, whom we find travelling on the Continent, in 1769, with a harem of eight women, on whom he tried all sorts of dietetic experiments. I need only hint at the orgies held in Medmenham Abbey, and the blasphemous travesties of the Hell-fire Club, to which fifteen ladies of the highest rank considered it an honour to belong.
At that time, the governing classes and the governed had scarce anything in common but the air they breathed, or an occasional street row. Fashionable vice affected a publicity which imparts historic value to the satirical descriptions which Lady Mary Wortley Montagu has left us. She tells us, inter alia, how, at Sir R. Walpole's seat, a bill was discussed, for the purpose of omitting the "not" from the Ten Commandments. Further on, we find a remark that both sexes have so thoroughly recognised the inconveniences of matrimony that even girls ridiculed it; and the title of "rake" graces women no less than men. Or again, we read that, now-a-days, it is not considered at all improper to say publicly that the Maid of Honour, Mrs. So-and-So, had got over her confinement, but that Miss Whatshername has never thoroughly recovered from her accouchement. With such a tone prevailing in society, we can understand how Lord Chesterfield could reply to the notorious Miss Chudleigh, when she complained of having been falsely accused of giving birth to twins, "For my part, I never believe more than half of what people say."
Under the government of George III. matters became no better. On the contrary, the fashionable world seemed to take a pride in resenting by their conduct the stupid domesticity of "Farmer George." We come across lady topers, who could send the most practised wine-bibbers under the table. Luxury, which was enormously augmented by the return of the Nabobs, who had shaken the pagoda-tree to some effect, was displayed in the realisation of the most wonderful caprices. Family and wedded honour was trampled under foot, and the shamelessness of the women attained incredible proportions. When one of the most notorious demireps, Lady Worseley, ran away with an officer, and the insulted husband sued for a divorce, the lady, in the hope of saving her paramour's purse, summoned as witnesses thirty-two young noblemen and gentlemen, who had all been her lovers with her husband's knowledge. Seven-and-twenty really appeared in court, and one of them added, that Sir Richard once took him up to the roof of the house to show him his wife in her bath—a Venus Anadyomene. On the day of this remarkable trial there was an important motion in the House, and Lord North was very anxious to secure the votes of his whole party. Hence, when he did not see Sir Richard in his place, and the reason for his absence was stated, he exclaimed, "Oh! if all my cuckolds leave me in the lurch, I shall surely be in a minority." An illustration of this remark is afforded in the fact, that the Bishop of Llandaff, when bringing in a bill to regulate the Divorce Court, in 1777, stated, that since George III.'s ascent of the throne, or during only sixteen years, there had been more divorces than during the whole previous history of England. The wives, of course, merely followed the example of their husbands in immorality, as is usually the case. How, indeed, could any check be possible, when a British minister, the Duke of Grafton, could dare to drive out with his mistress, Nancy Parsons, one of the most notorious Anonymas of the day, in the presence of the Court?
When fashionable vice was so openly and unblushingly displayed, it could not fail but that the populace of the capital should now and then break out into excesses of unbridled savagedom, as was more especially the case in the notorious No-Popery riots of 1780. Crimes increased to an extraordinary extent, not only in number, but in brutality. Horrible murders were every-day events, as a glance at the "Annual Register" will afford sickening proof. Members of the aristocracy committed the most aggravated murders. As an instance, an Irish gentleman, after waylaying a rival favoured by his mistress, offered him the choice between death and awful mutilation, and, when the latter was chosen, carried it out in such a way that the mutilated man died. The boldness of the robbers and highwaymen was unbounded. The Lord Chancellor was robbed of the great seal of England, the great Pitt of his plate, the Archbishop of Canterbury's house was broken into, and the French mail stopped and plundered in one of the busiest streets of the metropolis. In vain did a justice, which rivalled crime in barbarity, pass whole batches of death-sentences. In one year (1766), two hundred and twenty-three persons were cast for death at the Assizes, and duly hanged. In 1786, one hundred and thirty-three were sentenced to death at the Old Bailey alone. Very significant signs of the age are the repeated instances of idiotcy, insanity, and suicide. It was not at all uncommon for a noble rake-hell,[6] who had drunk the cup of licentiousness to the dregs, to collect a number of prostitutes for a final orgie, and blow out his brains, either during or immediately after the Bacchanalian revel.[7]
Such was the state of society at the time when Augusta of Saxe-Coburg, Princess of Wales, was left with seven young children, and another shortly expected.[8] She was a young widow, only two-and-thirty years of age, and had not a friend to depend on in the world. The king, her papa-in-law, cordially hated her, and she had not even the consolation of regretting her husband, for, though born a princess, she was a woman after all, and had bitterly felt her late husband's open profligacy with Lady Archibald Hamilton. Prince George alone expressed any regret at his father's death, and that was in a modified form. When he was told of it, he turned pale, and laid his hand on his breast. Ayscough said, "I am afraid, sir, you are not well;" and the prince replied, "I feel something here, just as I did when I saw the two workmen fall from the scaffold at Kew."[9]
Sturdy little King George very soon recovered from the shock of his son's death, even if he felt it; for we find that, on March 31, there was a great court at St. James's, where the king appeared for the first time in public since the death of the prince. On this occasion Prince George, with his brothers, waited on his Majesty, who, in the evening, paid a visit of condolence to his daughter-in-law at Leicester House, which he followed up by another visit on April 4, paying great attention to her comforts, and ordering the first quarterly payment of her income in advance.[10] This income was by marriage settlement £100,000 a year; but the princess had formed a resolution to pay her husband's private debts, and kept her word. Shortly after receiving this scrap of comfort, the widow's family was enlarged; on the evening of June 13 the princess walked in Carlton Gardens, supped, and went to bed very well; she was taken ill about six o'clock on the following morning, and at about eight was delivered of a princess—the unfortunate Caroline Matilda. "Both well," Melcombe adds. Could he but have read the future, he might have cried, "Better had she ne'er been born!"
The next few years passed over very tranquilly, to all appearance; the princess devoted herself to the education of her children, and listening to the advice of the only man she thoroughly trusted—Lord Bute. This nobleman, a poor Scotchman, had made the acquaintance of Frederick several years before, and by a diligent course of McSycophantism, had rendered himself essential. Although he was the father of a large family, his connection with the princess had the worst possible interpretation put on it: and his unfortunate propensity for playing the part of Lothario in private theatricals, gave an awful handle to Wilkes, Churchill, and the other miscreants, who made up for the bluntness of the weapon they handled by the ferocity of the blows they dealt. Even the elegant Horry put an extra squeeze of gall into his standish when describing the amours of the princess.
From Melcombe and Walpole we obtain a few glances at the domestic life of the princess, which are worthy of attention, as showing the sphere and the society in which Caroline Matilda was educated. The mother, it is quite certain, dearly loved her children, but had a most disagreeable way of showing her love. She kept a terribly tight rein over them, and imbued them with her own prejudices and hatreds. Prince George's uncle, "butcher George" of Cumberland, taking up a sabre once and drawing it to amuse the child, the boy started and turned pale. The prince felt a generous shock: "What must they have told him about me?" he asked. Very touching, too, is the story of the little Duke of Gloucester (who in after years distinguished himself with Lady Grosvenor). Seeing him silent and unhappy, the princess sharply asked the cause of his silence: "I am thinking," said the poor child. "Thinking, sir—of what?" "I am thinking, if ever I have a son, I will not make him so unhappy as you make me."
And yet this woman, with her cold repellent way, adored her children, and would have readily laid down her life for any one of them; but she forced back her affection, lest the display of it might weaken her authority over them. The examples of this maternal affection are so frequent in Melcombe, that I may be pardoned for putting together a few extracts which will throw a little pleasing light on a most calumniated woman:—
"Oct. 9, 1752.—I received a letter from Mr. Cresset that her royal highness would see me this morning. I got to Kew at half-past eleven. I saw H.R.H. very soon; she, the Ladies Augusta, Elizabeth, and I, went out and we walked without sitting down for more than three hours. We had much talk upon all manner of private subjects, serious and ludicrous. Her behaviour was open, friendly and unaffected. She commanded me to dine and pass the evening with her. When we came in we met Lady Middlesex, who had sent me word she was to be there. We walked in the afternoon till dark. As we came in, she said she had a petition from the prince (of Wales) that we would play at comet, of which he was very fond. The party was the prince's—the Prince of Wales, Prince Edward; the Ladies Augusta and Elizabeth, Lady Middlesex and Charlotte Edwin, and myself."
"Oct. 15, 1752.—The princess having sent to desire me to pass the day with her, I waited accordingly on her between eleven and twelve. I saw her immediately; H.R.H., the children, and Lady Charlotte Edwin went walking till two, and then returned to prayers, and from thence to dinner. As soon as dinner was over, she sent for me, and we sat down to comet. We rose from play about nine; the royal children retired, and the princess called me to the farther end of the room. She began by saying that she liked the prince should, now and then, amuse himself at small play, but that princes should never play deep, both for the example, and because it did not become them to win great sums."
I omit a long conversation in which the princess and Melcombe discussed the ministry, and the king's conduct towards her; after which the courtly scribe continues: "I then took the liberty to ask her what she thought the real disposition of the prince to be? She said that I knew him almost as well as she did; that he was very honest, but she wished that he was a little more forward, and less childish at his age; that she hoped his preceptors would improve him. I begged to know what methods they took, what they read to him or made him read, and whether he showed a particular inclination to any of the people about him. She said she did not well know what they taught him, but, to speak freely, she was afraid not much; that they were in the country and followed their diversion, and not much else. She said, Stone told her that when he talked to the prince upon those subjects (the government and constitution, the general course and manner of business), he seemed to give a proper attention, and made pertinent remarks. She repeated, he was a very honest boy, that his chief passion seemed for his brother Edward.... She said the prince seemed to have a very tender regard for the memory of his father, and that she encouraged it as much as she could; that when they behaved wrongly, or idly (as children will do), to any that belonged to the late prince, and who are now about her, she always asked them how they thought their father would have liked to see them behave so to anybody that belonged to him, and whom they valued; and that they ought to have the more kindness for them, because they had lost their friend and protector, who was theirs also; and she said she found that it made a proper impression upon them."
"Dec. 5, 1752.—Lord Harcourt resigned being governor to the prince. He offered to do so, unless Mr. Stone (placed as sub-governor by the ministers), Mr. Scott, tutor in the late prince's time (but recommended by Lord Bolingbroke), and Mr. Cresset, made treasurer by the princess's recommendation, were removed. The king desired him to consider of it; but Lord Harcourt continuing in the same resolution, the archbishop and lord chancellor were sent to him to know the particulars of his complaints against those gentlemen. He replied that the particulars were fit only to be communicated to the king; and, accordingly, he waited on his Majesty, which ended in his resignation. The Bishop of Norwich sent in his resignation by the same prelate and lord."
Sagacious Horace Walpole, who compressed so much wit into a sheet of ordinary post, had entertained his doubts about Lord Harcourt two years before: writing to Sir H. Mann, on June 8, 1751, he says in his dry way, "They have hooked in, too, poor Lord Harcourt, and call him Harcourt the wise: (how Horace must have grinned as he italicised the last word;) his wisdom has already disgusted the young prince: 'Sir, pray hold up your head,' 'Sir, for God's sake, turn out your toes!' Such are Mentor's precepts."
The storm in a puddle about Stone created an enormous sensation, and the old cry of "wooden shoes and popery" rang through the land just as—well, just as it does now-a-days, on any favourable occasion. The story is a curious one, as told by Walpole, although Adolphus pooh-poohs it in a very lordly way in his history of George III.
The young Prince of Wales, on the death of his father, was placed by the king under the care of the Earl of Harcourt as governor; of Dr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, as preceptor; and of Mr. Stone and Mr. Scott as sub-governor and sub-preceptor. The two former were favourites of Lord Lincoln, the ministerial nephew: Stone was the bosom-confidant of the Duke of Newcastle: Scott, as well as the solicitor-general, Murray, and Cresset, the favourite of the princess, were disciples of Lord Bolingbroke, and his bequest to the late prince. Stone, in general a cold, mysterious man, of little plausibility, had always confined his arts, his application, and probably his views, to one or two great objects. The princess could answer to all these lights; with her he soon ingratiated himself deeply. Lord Harcourt was minute and strict in trifles; and thinking that he discharged his trust conscientiously, if on no account he neglected to make the prince turn out his toes, he gave himself little trouble to respect the princess, or to condescend to the sub-governor. The bishop, thinking himself already minister to the future king, expected dependence from, and never once thought of depending upon, the inferior governors. In the education of the two princes he was sincerely honest and zealous, and soon grew to thwart the princess whenever, as an indulgent, or perhaps a little as an ambitious mother, (and this happened but too frequently,) she was willing to relax the application of her sons. These jars appeared soon after the king's going to Hanover; and by the season of his return they were ripe for his interposition.
With these disappointments, the king returned to England, and arrived at St. James's, November 18th. The princess appeared again in public, and the king gave her the same honours and place as the queen used to have. He was not in the same gracious mood with others of the court. The calamity of Lord Holderness, the secretary of state, was singular; he was for some days in disgrace, for having played at blindman's-buff in the summer at Tunbridge. To Lord Harcourt the king said not a word. In the beginning of December the chancellor and the archbishop sent to Lord Harcourt that they would wait on him by the king's command. He prevented them, and went to the chancellor, who told him that they had orders to hear his complaints. He replied, "They were not proper to be told but to the king himself," which did not make it a little suspicious, that even the princess was included in his disgusts. The first incident that had directly amounted to a quarrel was the Bishop of Norwich finding the Prince of Wales reading Père d'Orleans's "Révolutions d'Angleterre," a book professedly written by the direction, and even by the communication, of James II., to justify his measures. Stone at first peremptorily denied having seen that book in thirty years, and offered to rest his whole justification upon the truth or falsehood of that accusation. At last it was confessed that the prince had the book, but it was qualified with Prince Edward's borrowing it of his sister Augusta. Stone acted mildness, and professed being willing to continue to act with Lord Harcourt and the bishop; but the sore had penetrated too deep, and they who had given the wounds had aggravated them with harsh provocations. The bishop was accused of having turned Scott one day out of the prince's chamber by an imposition of hands that had at least as much of the flesh as the spirit in the force of the action. Cresset, the link of the connection, had dealt out very ungracious epithets both on the governor and preceptor; and Murray, by an officious strain of strange impudence, had early in the quarrel waited on the bishop, and informed him that Mr. Stone ought to have more consideration in the prince's family; and repeating the visit and opinion, the bishop said, "He believed that Mr. Stone found all proper regard, but that Lord Harcourt, the chief of the trust, was generally present." Murray interrupted him, and cried, "Lord Harcourt! pho! he is a cypher, and must be a cypher, and was put in to be a cypher." A notification, however understood before by the world, that could not be very agreeable to the person destined to a situation so insignificant! Accordingly, December 6th, Lord Harcourt had a private audience in the king's closet, and resigned. The archbishop waited on his Majesty, desiring to know if he would see the Bishop of Norwich, or accept his resignation from his (the archbishop's) hands. The king chose the latter.[11]
The poor princess was sadly perplexed by all this pother, and told Melcombe that she knew nothing of it, and could not conceive what they meant: but she added, after profound reflection, "indeed, the bishop was teaching them logic, which, as she was told, was a very odd study for children of their age, not to say of their condition." Perhaps, if Prince George had paid more attention to the study, he would not have behaved so illogically during the American war. However, it all blew over again, ere long, and we find Lord Melcombe able to record:
"1753, February 8.—I waited on the princess. She began at once by saying she had good news to tell me; that they were very happy in their family; that the new bishop gave great satisfaction; that he seemed to take great care and in a proper manner; and that the children took to him and seemed mightily pleased.
"I stick (the princess is speaking) to the learning as the chief point; you know how backward they were when we were together, and I am sure you don't think them much improved since. It may be that it is not too late to acquire a competence, and that is what I am most solicitous about; and if this man, by his manner, should hit upon the means of giving them that, I shall be mightily pleased. The Bishop of Norwich was so confused, that one could never tell what he meant, and the children were not at all pleased with him. The stories about the history of the Père d'Orleans were false; the only little dispute between the bishop and Prince Edward, was about le Père Péréfixe's history of Henry IV."
One more extract, and we return Lord Melcombe to the limbo whence we drew him.
"1753, November 17.—The princess sent for me to attend her between eight and nine o'clock. I went to Leicester House, expecting a small company and a little music, but found nobody but her royal highness. She made me draw a stool and sit by the fireside. Soon after came in the Prince of Wales and Prince Edward, and then the Lady Augusta, all in undress, and took their stools and sat round the fire with us. We continued talking of familiar occurrences till between seven and eleven, with the ease and unreservedness and unconstraint, as if one had dropped into a sister's house, that had a family, to pass the evening. It is much to be wished that the princess conversed familiarly with more people of a certain knowledge of the world."
Bubb's closing remark may be truly endorsed. Though Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Peterboro', the new preceptor to the Prince of Wales, was a very excellent man, and gave great satisfaction to the princess, from the extraordinary care and proper manner manifested in his conduct, and though the royal children loved him, and were much pleased with his instruction,—for all that I do not think him the right man in the right place. Granted that the course of education became of the most beneficial kind, and that the public were fully satisfied that the prince, instead of being separated from his remaining parent, should be especially under her care, whilst he received his elementary initiation into literature and politics, still, the result was a faulty one, as a competent writer on the subject allows.[12]
In the plan, however, of keeping the prince exempt from the vices of the age, there was, perhaps, too much and unnecessary strictness; as it went so far as even to restrain him, with a few exceptions, from all intercourse with the young nobility, confining his knowledge of the world to books and the social circle at Leicester House, which, though select and cheerful as well as unrestrained, was not adapted to give that manliness of character necessary for a monarch, and might have been productive of much evil, had not the prince's own natural resolution, since denominated obstinacy, preserved him from acquiring that milkiness of character which might have been expected.
Little did people think at the time how bitterly a fair-haired cherub, then playing about the gardens of Carlton House, would suffer from the want of knowledge of the world in which her brother was being brought up.
In this rambling chapter, the slightest allusion to the family of Caroline Matilda must be forgiven, and the following passage is solely inserted to prove the thoughtfulness of the Princess of Wales for the poor, and as a fair ground for assuming that qualis mater, talis filia.
"Another instance of the attention paid by the Princess Dowager to the encouragement of native industry, and to the finding employment for females, was manifested on the Princess Augusta's birthday, when she herself, with all the princesses, appeared in curious hats of fine thread needlework on book muslin, in hopes of bringing them into fashion, as it would employ a great number of poor girls, making useful subjects of those who would otherwise be burdensome to the public, or exposed to all the horrors of vice and penury."[13]
I hesitated for a long time ere I made up my mind to quote Walpole's account of the Prince of Wales attaining his majority, for it contains many scandalous insinuations against his mother, for which there is not a particle of evidence. I have, however, decided on giving it room, not only because it throws some light on family affairs, but also because I have such faith in the character of the princess that I believe it can defy even worse attacks. Having a special object in view in giving these details, which will not be visible for some time hence, I throw down the glove to the goddess of scandal and her arch-priest, Horace Walpole, and let them say their worst.
"The Prince of Wales attained the age prescribed for his majority on June 4, by which the Regency Bill remains only a dangerous precedent of power to posterity—no longer so to us, for whose subjection it was artfully, though, by the grace of God, vainly calculated. This epoch, however, brought to light the secrets of a court, where, hitherto, everything had been transacted with mysterious decency. The princess had conducted herself with great respect to the king, with appearance of impartiality to ministers and factions. If she was not cordial to the duke (of Cumberland), or was averse to his friends, it had been imputed less to any hatred adopted from her husband's prejudices, than to jealousy of the government of her son; if the world should choose to ascribe her attention for him to maternal affection, they were at liberty; she courted and watched him neither more nor less for their conjectures. It now at last appeared that maternal tenderness or ambition were not the sole passions that engrossed her thoughts. It had already been whispered that the assiduity of Lord Bute at Leicester House, and his still more frequent attendance in the gardens at Kew and Carlton House, were less addressed to the Prince of Wales than to his mother. The eagerness of the pages of the back-stairs to let her know whenever Lord Bute arrived [and some other symptoms] contributed to dispel the ideas that had been conceived of the rigour of her widowhood. On the other hand, the favoured personage, naturally ostentatious of his person, and of haughty carriage, seemed by no means desirous of concealing his conquest. His bows grew more theatric, his graces contracted some meaning, and the beauty of his leg was constantly displayed in the eyes of the poor captivated princess. Indeed, the nice observers of the court-thermometer, who often foresee a change of weather before it actually happens, had long thought that her royal highness was likely to choose younger ministers than that formal piece of empty mystery, Cresset, or the matron-like decorum of Sir George Lee.... Her simple husband, when he took up the character of the regent's gallantry, had forced an air of intrigue even upon his wife. When he affected to retire into gloomy allées with Lady Middlesex, he used to bid the princess walk with Lord Bute. As soon as the prince was dead, they walked more and more, in honour of his memory.[14]
"The favour of Lord Bute was scarce sooner known than the connections of Pitt and Legge with him. The mystery of Pitt's breach with Fox was at once unravelled—and a court secret of that nature was not likely long to escape the penetration of Legge, who wormed himself into every intrigue where his industry and subservience could recommend him—yet Legge had not more application to power than Newcastle jealousy of it. Such an entrenchment round the successor alarmed him. It was determined in his little council that the moment the Prince of Wales should be of age, he should be taken from his mother; but the secret evaporating, intimations by various channels were conveyed to the Duke of Newcastle and to the chancellor, how much the prince would resent any such advice being given to the king, and that it would not be easy to carry it into execution. The prince lived shut up with his mother and Lord Bute, and must have thrown them under some difficulties; their connection was not easily reconcilable to the devotion which they had infused into the prince; the princess could not wish him always present, and yet dreaded his being out of her sight. His brother Edward, who received a thousand mortifications, was seldom suffered to be with him; and Lady Augusta, now a woman, was, to facilitate some privacy for the princess, dismissed from supping with her mother, and sent back to cheese-cakes, with her little sister Elizabeth, on pretence that meat at night would fatten her too much.
"The ministers, too apt to yield when in the right, were now obstinate in the wrong place, and without knowing how to draw the king out of the difficulty into which they were pushing him, advised this extraordinary step. On May 31st, Lord Waldegrave, as the last act of his office of governor, was sent with letters of the same tenor to the prince and to his mother, to acquaint them that the prince being now of age, the king, who had ever shown the greatest kindness and affection for him, had determined to give him £40,000 a-year, would settle an establishment for him, of the particulars of which he should be informed, and that his Majesty had ordered the apartments of the late prince at Kensington, and of the queen at St. James's, to be fitted up for him; that the king would take Prince Edward too, and give him an allowance of £5,000 a-year.
"After a little consult in their small cabinet, both prince and princess sent answers in writing, drawn up, as was believed, by Legge, and so artfully worded, that the supposition was probable. The prince described himself as penetrated by the goodness of his Majesty, and receiving with the greatest gratitude what his Majesty, in his parental affection, was pleased to settle on him; but he entreated his Majesty not to divide him from his mother, which would be a most sensible affliction to both. The answer of the princess remarked, that she had observed, with the greatest satisfaction, the impression which his Majesty's consideration of the prince had made on him; and she expressed much sensibility of all the king's kindness to her. On the article of the separation, she said not a word."[15]
In the course of my studies, I have naturally gone as deeply as I could into this question of the alleged liaison between the princess and Lord Bute, and believe I have traced it to its real source. On one occasion, Miss Chudleigh appeared at a fancy ball, dressed as Iphigenia waiting for the sacrifice, and so décolletée that an eye-witness declared that she wished to display her entrails to the sacrificing priest. The princess mildly rebuked her for her licentiousness; and the maid of honour flippantly replied, "Altesse, vous savez, chacun à son bût." The retort was clever, if impertinent, and spread like wildfire. Miss Chudleigh's last good thing was quoted, and, from this moment, I firmly believe, a hitherto floating charge became anchored. That the couple intrigued, I am willing to admit, but it was a political intrigue; a woman, who has escaped from a profligate husband, to whom she has borne nine children, does not so easily place herself in another man's power. Bute was poor; the princess was ambitious; they had the future king of England in their hands, and meant to keep him. Bute, mayhap, for ulterior purposes of his own, but the mother most certainly, because she did not believe her son capable of walking alone. Up to the day of her death, she held unbounded sway over the king; but, in no one instance, did she exert it to benefit a favourite; while in the choice of her own household, she was actuated solely by merit. Poor woman! she had but few pleasures in this world; she did her duty honestly, as she thought, and most certainly set an example to mothers by the way in which she brought up her children. The only reward she has received from posterity has been at the most a flippant sneer at her narrow-mindedness; but too often a hasty condemnation as a widow who sought consolation in the arms of her husband's friend.
Politest of epistolary Horaces, of the many sins you have to answer for, the worst is surely your deliberate attempt to blacken the character of an unoffending woman, who tried to do her duty according to her lights, and to whose fostering care we at any rate owed one George, who stands out as a shining and burning example among the four who bore the name.
CHAPTER II.
MARRIAGE OF CAROLINE MATILDA.
THE YOUTH OF CAROLINE MATILDA—MEMOIRS OF AN UNFORTUNATE QUEEN—EDUCATION OF THE PRINCESS—SPECIMENS OF HER CORRESPONDENCE—PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE—CAROLINE MATILDA'S FEELINGS—THE ROYAL ASSENT—DEATH OF THE KING OF DENMARK—PUBLIC OPINION—THE MARRIAGE PORTION—THE MARRIAGE—FAREWELL TO ENGLAND—LANDING IN DENMARK—ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION.
It is not possible to give any detailed account of the youth of Caroline Matilda, for young princesses are not brought much into evidence. Any one, for instance, who desired to trace the life of the Princess Helena from her birth to the present day, would necessarily be but a small-beer chronicler; how much more is this true in the case of Caroline Matilda; for George III., through a mistaken feeling of brotherly piety, destroyed every scrap of paper that bore her handwriting. Hence, I will not weary my readers by dull quotations from the newspapers as to the appearances in public of the princess, but leave them to the pleasing belief that the first fifteen years of her life glided placidly away.
Of the results of her mother's careful training, we fortunately possess fuller evidence, in an unpretending work called "Memoirs of an Unfortunate Queen." The authenticity of this book has been contested, because it was published anonymously;[16] but after careful examination and comparison, I am disposed to accept it in evidence. The details connected with the palace revolution, reveal an intimate knowledge of the facts, which only a constant attendant on the Queen could possess. At first, I was inclined to believe that my grandfather was the author, but I find no proof to that effect among his papers. That the book should be published anonymously, adds, in this instance, to its authenticity. George III. had a horror of the facts connected with his sister being published, and would have visited with his severest displeasure any courtier guilty of such an offence. Hence, though the author thought it his duty to vindicate the honour of a beloved mistress, he did not consider that her cause would be served by a self-sacrifice.
From her tenderest years, Caroline Matilda displayed the most endearing vivaciousness, and a sweetness of temper that could not fail to engage the affections of her attendants. When she attained the age of discernment, her heart and her mind became susceptible of the most generous sentiments. Her person was graceful; her manners elegant; her voice sweet and melodious, and her countenance most prepossessing. The author of "Northern Courts," no friend of the Queen generally, cannot refrain from expressing his admiration of her beauty when he first saw her. "Her complexion was uncommonly fine; she might, without flattery, have been termed the fairest of the fair. Her hair was very light flaxen, almost as white as silver, and of luxurious growth; her eyes were light blue, clear, large and expressive; her lips, particularly the under lip, full and pouting; her teeth white and regular." Her disposition was most amiable; and several indigent families at Kew, where this charming princess was not so much restrained by the etiquette of a Court as in London, often experienced her beneficence and liberality, and frequently obtained considerable relief from her privy purse.
Her education was a remarkable one for the times: she spoke German, French, and Italian, fluently; and her knowledge of English literature was very extensive. Her diction was pure, and her elocution graceful. She could, with facility, repeat the most admired passages of our dramatic poets; and often rehearsed, with great judgment and propriety, whole scenes of Shakespeare's most admired plays. She performed on the pianoforte, and had a marked taste for music. She also danced very gracefully.
Such innocence, beauty and grace, made a marked impression on the English; and indeed the whole of the king's brothers and sisters were popular. Mr. Wraxall, of Bristol, writing to his son in 1775, to condole with him on the death of his royal mistress, may be regarded as expressing the general opinion, when he says: "I have the most lively sense of what the queen was only a few months before her marriage, when her majesticness of person and the apparent courtesy of her address, made very favourable impressions on me; and I can fully acquiesce, notwithstanding an obscurity in history, that on her own account she was truly amiable and much worthy to be lamented." We find in this passage a sympathy with the misfortunes of Caroline Matilda, and regret for her premature death, tempered by a doubt as to her purity, which was aroused, as we shall see hereafter, by her brother's ill-judged reticence on her behalf.
As a proof of the pretty, easy style of the princess's correspondence, room must be made here for four of her letters which have been preserved, and which are written in the happy confidence of childhood. The dates are not given, but they are evidently anterior to the report of her marriage.
To Lady B—— M——.
Dear B——,
Since you left Richmond, I have much improved my little copyhold in Kew Gardens, and made a great proficiency in the knowledge of exotics. I miss often your company, not only for your pretty chat, but for your approbation in my hortulan embellishments. This, you will say, is selfishness and vanity to the highest degree. Are we not all feeble mortals,—a compound of both? You know we have but a narrow circle of amusements, that we can sometimes vary but never enlarge. How long do you intend to plague me by your absence? It is ungenerous, as I cannot come to you. I wish often the title of Royal Highness should lie dormant, to jaunt with you like a pert cit. I expect, when I see you, to have a faithful account of all your summer's excursions, and to conclude precisely, Dieu vous ait dans sa sainte garde!
Your faithful friend,
Caroline.
To Lady C—— F——.
Madame,
J'ai commencé un cours de belles lettres en François, à la portée d'une personne qui veut passer pour avoir de la lecture, sans avoir la manie d'être savante. Les ouvrages qui j'ai choisi, sont ceux de Voltaire, Crébillon le fils, Marivaux et Fontenelle, qui selon moi ont tous un mérite original dans leur genre. Enough of French. As I find more instruction and more entertainment in your agreeable conversation than in the writings of conceited authors,—who censure, reason, moralise, or advance facts and opinions, without answering the doubts and objections of their readers,—I beg you will indulge me with this pleasure and satisfaction as often as you conveniently can. I am not philosopher enough to give up the society of my friends for books; and, indeed, my sex and my age are entitled to some prating. May I have the talent, like you, to tell de jolis riens, and to speak with sense and knowledge, without appearing scientific, is the sincere wish of
Your affectionate
Caroline.
To Lady S—— S——.
My dear S——,
Since you have made the petit tour, I expect you will give me a faithful account of all the high and mighty minheers, fraws and altesses, by whom you have been entertained in Holland and Germany. Like all travellers, you are entitled to a grain of allowance. I believe, like most of our countrymen, you think, after all, our country is the best to live in; or, as a Frenchman says: ces bonnes gens aiment leur pays. I hope you have received some declaration of love, uttered with the Germanic sincerity; and that you have not betrayed, à l'Anglois, some ennui at the courts of their royal and serene highnesses of Orange and Brunswick. By-the-by, these princes are not sorry that their consorts add to their pompous titles that of Royal, which, as it is given them jointly and severally, will, upon failure of love, summon pride against a divorce. Let me know when you intend to pay me a friendly visit, as I dispense you heartily with the etiquette of courts. I believe you have no doubt of my veracity, when I subscribe myself
Your faithful friend,
Caroline.
To H.R.H. Augusta, Princess of Brunswick.
Madam and Sister,
I am happy to hear that you are safely arrived at Brunswick, and that the compliments of the nobility and gentry of the duchy, on your auspicious marriage, &c., are now at an end. It is really a hard task to receive graciously a crowd of people you never saw, were you ever so fatigued or indisposed. I shall not ask you to impart to me the observations you have made in your travels, as the European princesses, who are obliged to live in perpetual exile for the sake of a husband, are not even indulged to stop when and where they please, to satisfy their curiosity, when sent upon a matrimonial errand. Pray let me know how you like your operas and ridottos. I have nothing to tell you. What may be expected in a court is only to diversify l'ennui. All the august family are well. I beg to be remembered to his Serene Highness; and that you will do me the favour to believe, that neither absence nor distance will ever cause the least alteration in my sisterly love.
Your most affectionate
Caroline.
Towards the close of 1764, the Danish ministry opened negotiations to obtain for Prince Christian the hand of his cousin, Caroline Matilda. In his speech from the throne, on January 10, 1765, George III. informed the nation:
"I have now the satisfaction to inform you that I have agreed with my good brother, the King of Denmark, to cement the union which has long subsisted between the two crowns by the marriage of the Prince Royal of Denmark with my sister the Princess Caroline Matilda, which is to be solemnized as soon as their respective ages will admit."
To which his Majesty's faithful Commons replied, that the alliance was most pleasing to them, as it must tend to cement and strengthen the ancient alliance between the crowns of Great Britain and Denmark, and thereby add security to the Protestant religion.[17] The announcement of the marriage was soon followed by the public appearance of the princess at court, as we find that on January 18 she opened the ball given at St. James's in honour of her Majesty's birthday, with the Duke of York.
It does not appear that the princess entertained any pleasing sensations about the alliance she was about to form. She was probably too young to have any personal feelings as regarded her bridegroom elect, and doubtless the sorrow she experienced arose from the thought of the entire separation from her family. The ladies in attendance on her observed that, after this alliance was declared, she became pensive, reserved, and disquieted, though always gracious, without taking upon herself more state, or requiring more homage from the persons admitted into her presence. A conversation with one of her relations throws some light on the nature of her feelings. As she had never been farther from the metropolis than Windsor, before she went abroad to be "sacrificed on the altar of inauspicious Hymen," she said once to her aunt, the Princess Amelia, previous to the departure of the latter for Bath, "I wish most heartily that I could obtain permission to accompany you, as nothing would give me more pleasure and satisfaction than to travel in my native country: but this indulgence I cannot expect, since princesses of the blood royal, like cockneys, seldom go beyond the bills of mortality." To which her Royal Highness replied, "I should think myself very happy were this exception to be made in my favour: but I dare say it will not be long before you see more of England, and some foreign country into the bargain." "I guess what you mean," replied the Princess Caroline, "but perhaps it would be more happy for me to remain as I am, than to go so far for a prince I never saw. To be or not to be? that is the question." The same feeling, though in more guarded language, is expressed in the following letter:—
To H.R.H. the Princess Mary of Hesse Cassel.
Madam and good Aunt,
I give your Royal Highness my most sincere thanks for your congratulation upon my approaching marriage: but really I do not know whether we are not rather objects of pity than envy, when we are politically matched with princes whom we never saw, and may not, perhaps, find in us those charms which, if even real, are too often eclipsed by the beauties of a court set off with national partiality. I am sensible of the honour his Majesty of Denmark has done me, by singling me out from among so many amiable princesses, perhaps more worthy of his choice, but my youth and inexperience make me apprehensive of not fitting the highest station of a kingdom according to the expectations of subjects, who seldom think themselves obliged to us for the little good we do, and always impute to us part of their grievances. However, as my scruples will not in the least avail, I shall do my best to please the king and to conciliate the affections of his subjects. I am glad that this alliance is an additional affinity to your Royal Highness, of whom I am
The loving niece,
Caroline.
The death of Frederick V. of Denmark and accession of Christian VII. on January 14, 1766, offered no impediment to the marriage; on the contrary, it appears as if it were solemnized, in consequence, earlier than had been originally intended. The general opinion of the British public was favourable to the marriage, which was preceded by one between a sister of Christian VII. and the prince royal of Sweden. The double marriage appeared to cement the Protestant interest, and thus counterpoise the close union of the House of Bourbon. Moreover, it was hoped that the French influence, which had so long prevailed at Copenhagen, would be abolished in favour of the Anglo-Prussian system, and—to quote the words of the "Annual Register"—"it is not to be doubted, but the amiable princess whom his Danish Majesty is about to espouse, will contribute greatly to increase these good dispositions, as well as the harmony and friendship which still subsists between our court and nation and those of Denmark."
On June 3, 1766, a message from the crown was delivered to the House, asking a portion for the Princess Caroline upon her marriage with the King of Denmark. Dyson, in opposition to the ministers, offered a precedent against taking the message into consideration, except in committee or the next day,—a strange disrespect, unless it had been concerted with the king. This occasioned a long debate, in which Conway greatly distinguished himself by his spirit and abilities; and Dyson's motion was rejected by 118 to 35. Next came a message for a settlement on the princess. Augustus Hervey proposed to amend the address, and to promise to take it into immediate consideration. This, too, was outvoted; and Charles Townshend spoke finely on the occasion with great encomiums on the Duke of Grafton and Conway.[18] The portion actually voted was £100,000.
At half-past seven in the evening of Oct. 1, 1766, H.R.H. Caroline Matilda was married at the Chapel Royal of St. James. H.R.H. the Duke of York was proxy for the King of Denmark, and the ceremony was performed by his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. Next morning, at a quarter past six, her Majesty set out from Carlton House for Harwich, accompanied by H.R.H. the Duke of Gloucester, the Honourable Lady Mary Boothby, and Count von Bothmar, her Majesty's Vice-Chamberlain and late Danish Envoy in England, in a train of three coaches, escorted by parties of light horse, horse grenadiers, and life-guards, and a numerous train of domestics and attendants. The parting between the Queen of Denmark and H.R.H. the Princess of Wales was extremely tender; the young queen was observed on getting into her coach to shed tears, which greatly affected the populace assembled in Pall Mall to witness her departure.
Her Majesty arrived at Harwich at a quarter to four on the 2nd October, where Admiral Keppel was awaiting her with the royal yacht. During the whole journey from London she was seen to be buried in deep thought, and to gaze frequently and sadly at a talisman given her by her affectionate mother—it was a ring, with the inscription "Bring me happiness." Could she have had a foreboding of the fearful fate that awaited her at Copenhagen? Nature, too, appeared to oppose her departure, for the wind blew so heavily that it was not thought advisable for the queen to embark that night. She lay at the house of Mr. Davis, collector of customs, and spent the evening in writing the following letter to her favourite brother, the Duke of York:—
Sir and dear Brother,
I have just time enough to write you these few lines from England. If patriotism consists in the love of our country, what I feel now at the sight of that element which, in a few hours, shall convey me far from this happy land, gives me a just claim to that virtue. Perhaps you men, who boast of more fortitude, call this sensibility weakness, as you would be ashamed to play the woman on such an occasion; but, in wishing you all the temporal felicity this life can afford, I confess all the philosophy I am mistress of cannot hinder me from concluding, with tears in my eyes,
Sir, and dear brother,
Your most affectionate sister,
Caroline.
On the next morning, October 3, her Majesty embarked at half-past eleven, and her sobbing heart found at least some relief and comfort in a flood of tears. Of this circumstance an eye-witness remarks: "The tears of her Majesty, on parting from the dear country in which she drew her first breath, might have inspired in those who beheld them gloomy forebodings as to the issue of the voyage she was about to undertake." In another account we read how the queen was dressed in bloom colour with white flowers. Wherever she passed, the earnest wishes of the people were for her health, and praying to God to preserve her from the perils of the sea. A gentle melancholy at times seemed to affect her on account of leaving her family and the place of her birth; but, upon the whole, she carried an air of serenity and majesty which exceedingly moved every one that beheld her. As Mrs. Gillespie Smyth justly remarks,[19] "how irresistibly do these details of the contemporary chronicler, in the quaint language of the times—the bloom-coloured dress and so on, suggest to those acquainted with the sad sequel the idea of an unconscious victim proceeding to her doom!"
The very sea seemed reluctant to surrender its lovely burden, for it was not till the 9th, a little before nine o'clock in the morning, that the queen safely landed at Rotterdam. Thence she set out for Utrecht, in the Prince of Orange's yacht. The Prince of Orange, the Prince and Princesses of Nassau Weilburg, and Prince Louis of Brunswick, received her Majesty on her landing, and conducted her to the apartments in the Admiralty House, which the magistrates of Rotterdam had fixed upon as the most convenient for her Majesty to arrive at, and where she was pleased to accept the compliments of the regency of that city. The Princess of Weilburg accompanied the queen through the town to her yacht, amidst the acclamations of the people, where the Prince of Orange again received her Majesty, and took leave.
Her Majesty travelled viâ Osnabrück, Lingen, and Utrecht to Harburg, and, on October 18, reached Altona, where she was welcomed by the viceroy of the duchies, Baron von Dehn, in the name of her consort. The joy with which she was received was almost indescribable. The bridge prepared for her royal reception was covered with scarlet cloth, on one side of which were ranged the ladies, and on the other the men, and at the end were two rows of young women, dressed in white, who strewed flowers before her Majesty as she approached. "The illuminations were inconceivable," the chronicler, lost for language, concludes. On the 22nd she set out for Copenhagen with Baron von Dehn.
In England the marriage was accompanied by the usual loyal addresses, which require no special comment, except in the case of that presented by the city of London, in which Mr. Recorder alludes to the auspicious marriage with that great "potentate" the King of Denmark, which leads to the notion that Englishmen must either have had a very poor opinion of their own country, or else could afford to be generous when referring to that tight little kingdom of Denmark. Another remarkable fact for the verse-writing century is, that I do not find a single epithalamium or flourish of poetical trumpets in honour of the marriage. Even loyal Mr. Whitehead, who earned his sack most honestly, and neglected no opportunity to give his Pegasus a canter, found no inspiration in the royal marriage.
At this point in Caroline Matilda's life I will leave her for a while, in order to introduce the reader to the other principal actors in the strange eventful drama of her life. We have seen how she was transported at once from the bosom of a happy private family to the morally aid physically frozen regions of the north. Born after the early and sudden demise of her father, this posthumous pledge of conjugal affection must have grown closely to the widowed mother's heart, while at the same time we can fully understand how genial must have been the atmosphere in which the natural talents and acquired accomplishments of the youngest of a large and happy family were previously developed. She left her home without the slightest acquaintance with the external world, "as unprepared to encounter its stern realities as some tender exotic, from her favourite summer abode at Kew, would have been to meet the blasts of the climate to which she was transplanted."[20]
CHAPTER III.
THE DANISH COURT.
BIRTH OF CHRISTIAN VII.—DEATH OF HIS MOTHER—JULIANA MARIA—THE CHRONIQUE SCANDALEUSE—A SEVERE TASKMASTER—THE PRINCE'S EDUCATION—REVERDIL—CURIOUS DELUSIONS—THE KING'S ILLNESS AND DEATH—ACCESSION OF CHRISTIAN—COURT INTRIGUES—THE TRIUMVIRATE—ROYAL MARRIAGES.
On January 29, 1749, an heir to the united kingdoms of Denmark and Norway, the equally united duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, (with the exception of that portion of the latter country which was still Russian,) and to the counties of Oldenburg and Delmenhorst, first saw the light of the world in the person of the future Christian VII. Great was the delight of the royal parents at the birth of this son, because it prevented the possibility of any dispute about the succession on the death of the reigning monarch. In the duchies and counties the agnatic line alone was able to succeed, while in the two kingdoms the cognate line was competent to ascend the throne. This requires a few words of explanation, as the whole Schleswig-Holstein embroglio is based on it.
In 1460, after the expiration of the Schauenburg race, the estates of Schleswig-Holstein elected as their prince the same Count Christian of Oldenburg, who twelve years previously had been elected King of Denmark, and bears in history the name of Christian I. At this election, among other regulations, were two, to the effect that, first, Schleswig should never be reunited to Denmark, but that Schleswig and Holstein "should remain eternally undivided and together;" and, secondly, as regarded the succession, it was established that, by virtue of the law of succession prevailing in the German empire from the oldest times, in Schleswig-Holstein only the male branch of the House of Oldenburg should succeed by right of primogeniture. The female line was thus excluded, while, on the other hand, it was admitted to succession in Denmark. In the event of the male line expiring, therefore, the same thing would occur in respect to the united kingdoms of Denmark as happened, in 1837, with regard to the united kingdoms of Hanover and Great Britain. In England the female line was capable of succeeding to the throne, while in Hanover, by virtue of the old imperial law, only the male branch was admitted. When William IV. died, in 1837, the nearest female collateral succeeded him in Queen Victoria, while Hanover fell to the nearest male agnate, the Duke of Cumberland.[21]
Frederick V. received from his subjects the honourable surname of "the good," as did his grandson, Frederick VI., after him. Judging from contemporary records, he hardly earned the title, toward the close of his reign at any rate. Queen Louisa, a daughter of our George II., was literally adored for her goodness of heart and beauty by all her subjects, whether Danes, Norwegians, or Germans.[22] Hence great pity was felt when the young prince lost this tender mother in his third year, for she died in 1751.[23]
The blow was so terrible to the king that he was inconsolable. Sir C. Hanbury Williams, arriving three weeks afterwards to deliver a letter of condolence from King George II., still found the royal widower in tears; not only was court mourning ordered for a year, but every public amusement in the whole kingdom was prohibited for the same period. Notwithstanding this order, when a few months had passed, the easy and feeble nature of Frederick V. made him forget the great loss he had sustained, and he looked out for another queen.
Scarce six months of the twelve had elapsed, during which his subjects were to mourn for him, when the king cast off gloom and fond remembrance by marrying the Princess Juliana Maria of Wolfenbüttel. This princess, the youngest of six daughters, had been educated so carefully as to enjoy the reputation of being one of the most accomplished, princely daughters of the time, while the fame of her beauty equalled that of her other brilliant qualities. Her eldest and second sisters were married respectively to Frederick the Great, and Prince Augustus William, the heir presumptive to the Prussian throne. But this step-mother was less able to play the part of a true mother to the bereaved royal children, because she was the exact opposite of the departed queen in disposition.
According to the author of "Northern Courts,"[24] the new queen was a little more than kin and less than kind. She hated the late queen's children, and, if she had dared, would have sent them to follow their mother to the grave. At an early age, in her father's petty court, she was a great dabbler in political intrigues; in her temper, she was sullen, cruel, and vindictive; extremely penurious, forgetful of benefits, but never failing to avenge an injury tenfold; above all, a most profound dissembler, and able to wear a smile on her face and show all manner of civilities to the person most mortally hated, and whose destruction, at that very moment, she might be planning.
After giving birth to a weak, deformed son, who offered a striking contrast to Louisa's fair and white-haired boy, there is a dark rumour that Juliana Maria so far gave way to her fury as to attempt to remove the future heir to the throne by poison. The story is told with much circumstantiality in the "Northern Courts," but we need not dwell on the painful details. Suffice it for our purpose to say, that the design was detected by Christian's faithful Norwegian nurse, and the secret was revealed to the omnipotent minister, Count Moltke. The affair, of course, reached the king's ears, whose feelings, from this moment, revolted against his guilty consort. Unfortunately, for the sake of drowning his sorrow, he fell into habits of intoxication, and the government entirely passed into the hands of Count Moltke, who was generally known in public by the ironical title of "King Moltke."
Nor does it appear that Juliana Maria gave up her machinations. We have it on the highest authority[25] that she strove by gold and promises to seduce the attendants of the child. Excursions were frequently made on the lake behind the castle of Fredensborg, to amuse the royal family. Christian, during one of these excursions, was more restless and troublesome than usual; entreaties and reproaches could not make him be quiet. A chamberlain of the name of Brockdorf, who was somewhat rough and unpolished in his actions, threatened to throw the young prince into the water if he would not be quiet; he really seized him by the arm, and was so awkward and unlucky as to give the prince such a push that he fell overboard, but was immediately saved. He never forgot this moment, and imputed the accident to a design on his life, made by his step-mother, that she might raise Prince Frederick to the throne. This suspicion grew up with him, and no one was ever able to eradicate it.[26]
Far be it from my wish to condemn the queen dowager on this evidence. I prefer to employ it in confirmation of the generally-expressed opinion that she detested her step-children, and would have gladly secured the throne for her own son. In any case, it is quite certain that, from the outset, Christian's education was entrusted to improper hands. After all, though, can we blame a mother because she anxiously interests herself in the welfare of her own son? It is probable that many of the stories connected with Juliana Maria rest on ex post facto evidence; and though I adhere to my opinion that she behaved with unnecessary cruelty to Caroline Matilda when she held the latter in her power, I do not believe that the stories which I have been compelled to bring forward against her are more than the natural exaggerations of party spirit. For instance, in the case of the accident in the water, how easily might that have occurred without the slightest premeditation?
On attaining his sixth birthday, on March 31, 1755, the prince was given his own household,—Privy Councillor von Berkentin being appointed principal governor. He was an old gentleman fond of peace and comfort in the highest degree, and hence the education of the prince was left entirely to Chamberlain Detlev von Reventlow, who was appointed his tutor. This gentleman, unfortunately, however, was an ignorant, arrogant, ambitious, and coarse man, and treated the young and promising prince with great harshness. He often punished his royal pupil, for trifling offences, so inhumanly, that the foam gathered on the delicate lad's lips; and when the poor little fellow, writhing with pain, sought help and mercy from the wife of his torturer, he was no better treated by her. Reventlow used to order very elegant clothes for his pupil from Paris; he presided at his toilet, and decided on his shoes and lace; then the austere Mentor would lead him into the court circle, saying, "I will go and show my doll."
If we may regard it as fortunate that the prince, under such circumstances, did not lose all inclination for learning, or sink into a state of imbecility, the results of this treatment were not the less injurious to him. He was endowed with wit and sense, but these qualities soon assumed a dangerous satirical tendency, from his hearing the incessant sarcastic observations which his tutor made about nearly everybody else. Reventlow had a habit of speaking most irreverently of the clergy and the Bible, though, at the same time, he was very strict about the prince regularly attending service, and when he came out of church, made him repeat the entire argument of the sermon. Afterwards, Christian stated that Sunday was his greatest day of torment; and he avenged himself, in his governor's absence, by giving extremely buffoon parodies of some of the sermons he heard in church. Reventlow had an amiable way of pinching him in church when his attention appeared to flag.
As an instance of Christian's sarcasm, take the following anecdotes. In one of Frederick V.'s dipsomaniac fits, he made Count Moltke a present of the magnificent palace of Hirschholm and all its costly furniture. The crown prince, hearing of this lavish act, went to his study, and taking in his hand a plan of the palace, carried it to Count Moltke, saying: "Content yourself with this, I beseech your excellency; and believe me, unless you possess the crown, Hirschholm shall never be yours." The second incident displays even greater sarcasm. On another occasion, the king desired Prince Christian to fill the glasses for himself and the count. The prince coloured, and hesitated. The king repeated his commands, telling him to fill for himself also; upon which, the spirited youth just filled to the brim the glass that stood before the count, the king's glass only half full, and into his own he poured scarce any wine. "Heyday! what do you mean by this, Christian?" said the king. "I mean, sire," he said, "to denote hereby our relative consequence in the state. Count Moltke, being king and minister, I filled the glass commensurate with his authority; you, my father, being the next person in the state to the count, I half-filled your glass; as for myself, being of no consequence whatever, I took no wine."[27]
"His Royal Highness," as the young prince was now addressed, received as his instructor Nielsen, ex-governor of the pages. Bernstorff had tried to acquire the German poet Gellert as tutor for the prince, but to the regret of all right-minded Danes, he declined the offer, and the man then selected for the post was very little fitted to educate a future autocrat. According to the instructions drawn up for his guidance, Nielsen was ordered to strive to gain his pupil's affection, so that the latter might find pleasure in his teacher's company. He was to begin with teaching him the Christian religion, and thus arouse in the prince a resolution to lead a virtuous course of life. The teacher must not strive to attain this object by making the prince learn a number of texts by heart, but by frequent repetition of those rules of life on which salvation and the fulfilment of Christian duties depend. The teacher must be equally careful that the prince should be accustomed from his youth up to pray morning and evening, and display love, obedience, and confidence toward the Supreme Being. In all these matters the teacher would offer his pupil a good example through the propriety of his own words and conduct.
After this had been effected, the prince would be taught to read and understand a book, and to write a legible hand. The teacher would also try to give him a knowledge of Latin, but before all the prince must learn the history of the neighbouring states. The prince would make himself acquainted with the topography of the countries from the latest maps, as well as with the genealogy and family trees of the princes, especially of his own ancestors, whose glorious exploits must be frequently recited to the prince, in order to encourage him in taking their virtuous and noble lives for his model. All this must be brought before the young prince in amusing narratives, so that he might acquire a taste for them. In all other matters connected with the prince's education, however, the teacher must consult with the tutor, Herr von Reventlow.
These general instructions certainly contained much that was excellent, but of what avail are the best regulations, if they are not followed? Nielsen troubled himself but little about gaining his royal pupil's affection, and only too willingly had recourse to Reventlow's argumentum baculinum. The prince's education was neglected: he learned but little history and philosophy, and was left in complete ignorance of the principles of political economy. He was actually taught the history of Denmark from a French work written by Mallet. One step in the right direction, however, was that the Danish language, spoken in both kingdoms, was not so neglected as it had formerly been, for the whole entourage of the prince, with the exception of the foreign teachers, were prohibited from employing any other language than Danish in conversing with Christian;—a rule which was carried out as well upon Prince Frederick's birth, and was also pursued in the case of his young sister, who was afterwards Duchess of Augustenburg.
In 1760 a change for the better was effected, by Reverdil being appointed to instruct the prince in the French language and literature. This most upright Vaudois, of whom even carping Voltaire was obliged to say, "On peut avoir autant d'esprit que Reverdil, mais pas davantage," left behind him a very valuable MS. relating to Christian VII. and his court, which was published in 1858,[28] and throws an entirely different light on affairs. From him we have the following account of Christian when twelve years of age.
"The prince had a charming face: happy sallies of his were quoted: in his education, he succeeded in all the exercises for which he felt an interest; he spoke very pleasantly, and even elegantly, the three languages necessary at his court:—Danish, German, and French: and he was already a brilliant dancer. No one, in a word, even among his familiars, saw in him aught but an amiable lad, from whom great things might be expected, when age had slightly calmed his first impetuosity." Still, in a very few days Reverdil perceived that if the prince was superior to the common herd through his graces and talents, he was not the less extraordinary in his faults. One of the most curious traits about the prince was to desire to become strong, vigorous, and "hard," and he imagined that he was much more favoured by nature in this respect than he really was. Reverdil has no doubt but that this was a sign of incipient insanity. Christian looked at his hands, and felt his stomach to discover whether he was advancing, that is to say, whether he was progressing toward a state of perfection which he vaguely imagined, and about which his ideas often varied. The following explanation Christian himself gave Reverdil some twelve years later, at the period when his mind was completely deranged.
The king remembered that, at the age of five years, he was taken to an Italian play, and that, struck by the stature and dress of the actors, he had regarded them as beings of a superior species, whom he would some day come to resemble, after undergoing numerous trials and metamorphoses. From that time he always desired to advance: but after a while supreme perfection appeared to him to be the possession of a perfectly hard body,[29] a quality which was connected in his mind with the idea of strength, at the time when Reverdil entered on his duties: for, with strength, he could have resisted his governor, while with insensibility he could have been pinched and beaten, without feeling pain. When in this state of mind, the unhappy boy set but slight value on his princely rank. He envied the lot of the shepherds whom he saw in the country, or the gamins in the streets. He frequently imagined that he had been changed at nurse by Frau von Schmettau, or at least that he should some day escape the misfortune of reigning.
The utter want of tact which Reventlow displayed in the treatment of his princely pupil, would be incredible, if we did not have it on the authority of Reverdil. When the governor was more annoyed than usual, he would shout through the apartments for a rod, for though its use had almost entirely ceased, the threat of it lasted some time longer. These wretched scenes were public, for they could be heard from the palace yard, and were frequently continued outside the school-room. The crowd, who came to worship the rising sun, had the object of their homage presented to them in the shape of a very handsome and graceful boy with tear-swollen eyes, who tried to read in his tyrant's face whom he should address. When the circle was ended, chosen courtiers were invited to dinner. The Mentor seized on the conversation, or at times continued his questioning and rough treatment. The lad was thus exposed before his own servants, and grew familiarised with shame.
We can quite understand how the poor little fellow said once to Reverdil, "The amusements of yesterday considerably wearied my Royal Highness," for never did a child of such illustrious rank enjoy his privileges so little. One day, when Count Moltke gave him a party, the governor did not allow him to be informed of it. He feared lest the thought of the pleasure might distract the prince's mind during lessons. The day was a stormy one; the prince was scolded and beaten, and cried up to the hour for the ball. All at once he was led away, without being told whither. Fear seized on him, and was connected in his brain with his secret manias: he imagined that he was being taken to prison. The military honours paid him at the door, the beating of the drum, the guards round his carriage, everything that could recall his courage, only terrified him; his mind was disturbed for the whole night, he took no pleasure in dancing, and several years after he reminded Reverdil of the affair with positive terror.
The prince also made some progress in the arts. He played the piano, and drew and danced a minuet with admirable grace. Proper attention was also paid to his military education, according to the custom of the day, for, in 1755, or when he was seven years old, the prince commanded a regiment at a review.
On attaining his twelfth year, Christian passed an examination in the presence of the ministers of state, the Bishop of Copenhagen, one of the chaplains, and the attorney-general. In their presence the prince answered questions, and discharged his memory of everything that blows had accumulated in it. Every one went away satisfied: the governor was overwhelmed with praise, the witnesses dined at court, and fancied the prince a prodigy. Christian himself was rewarded by three days' holiday.
During the next few years Reverdil suffered a martyrdom, for he saw that incessant efforts were made to destroy his pupil's faculties, while the latter learned nothing that appertained to his duties as sovereign. Not only was Christian taught nothing concerning the relations of Denmark with foreign countries, or the mode of government employed in his own, but he never even learned to manage his own expenses. When he ascended the throne, he had never spent a ducat for himself. Some years previously the king had given him a country seat: the prince had not appointed a gardener or porter of his own, or planted a single tree. Reventlow managed everything, and spoke very justly about "my melons and my peaches."
On March 31, 1765, Christian, after due preparation by the orthodox Bishop Harboe, publicly made his confession of faith at confirmation, and his behaviour and sensible answers produced a very good impression. But for all that he was still treated as a boy, even after he had been declared of age by the Emperor of Germany as Duke of Holstein.[30]
This was the more inexcusable, because, by the Lex Regia of Denmark the heir-apparent was declared competent to reign when he attained his fourteenth year; and, moreover, the king's failing health promised the latter no lengthened life. In 1757 or 1758 Frederick V. had suffered an attack of pleurisy, the natural consequence of his excesses. The ministers consulted clever physicians on his behalf, under an assumed name. The reply was, that if the convalescent did not change his mode of life, he ran a risk of a relapse, and a dropsy would end his days. The council of state laid this consultation before the king, who was greatly affected by it, and regretted that he had allowed his passion to gain such a mastery over him. But those who were acquainted with the palace secrets foresaw that the monarch would soon fall a victim to his intemperance, and leave the throne to his son. In December, 1765, the dropsy made such progress that the king's death appeared close at hand. His intellectual faculties were also attacked; the monarch, though naturally kind and affectionate, became difficult and violent. He constantly talked about augmenting his army, and placing it on the Prussian footing.
It is very probable that the insult offered the crown prince by keeping him aloof from the government emanated from the king's favourite, Count Adam Gottlob von Moltke, who would not let the reins of government out of his hands. On the other hand, the premier had no objection to the proposed marriage with an English princess, and the affair was taken in hand by Count Bernstorff. The English envoy thus reported to his court about the prince: "He has a pleasant and masculine appearance, a distinguished and attractive form, and graciousness and affability combined with dignity." In July, 1765, the portrait of Caroline Matilda arrived in Copenhagen from London, and was hung up over the writing-table of the crown prince. He gazed at it with pleasure, and evinced his satisfaction "by expressions of delight."[31]
On the night of January 13, 1766, King Frederick V. died. It is reported that about an hour before his death he called the prince royal to his bedside, and, taking him by the hand, said, "My dear son, you will soon be king of a flourishing people; but remember, that to be a great monarch it is absolutely necessary to be a good man. Have justice and mercy, therefore, constantly before your eyes; and, above all things, reflect that you were born for the welfare of your country, and not your country created for your mere emolument. In short, keep to the golden rule of doing as you would be done by; and whenever you issue an order as a sovereign, examine how far you would be willing to obey such an order were you a subject yourself."[32] A more than ordinary flourish of trumpets was raised in the English papers on the death of this monarch: the following may serve as a sample:—
"There never appeared in any kingdom more deep and affecting sorrow for the loss of a sovereign than now in Denmark on the death of their late king: his reign was a perfect model for all future reigns; his lenity was the more commendable, as the form of government gave him absolute power: he preferred the happiness of his subjects to all the considerations which ambition and vainglory could inspire: he was quick to reward, and slow to punish: his bounties were royal, and his chastisements paternal: in private life he ever appeared the true friend, the dutiful son, the tender husband, the good father, and the generous master."
The real truth of matters was, that during the last years of Frederick's reign, the foreign envoys had been by turns the de facto rulers of Denmark. In March, 1759, France signed a convention, by which she assured Denmark an annual subsidy of 2,000,000 francs. These subsidies were not paid with due punctuality during the Seven Years' War, and hence, in the year 1763, there were arrears amounting to 2,388,897 thalers, or about 10,400,000 livres. Gleichen, who was appointed Danish envoy to France in that year, received instructions to effect the settlement of the arrears, and we find, from his "Notices Biographiques," that he succeeded in procuring the Danish court six millions of the arrears.[33] These subsidies were paid Denmark to raise a fleet with which to protect the Danish ships conveying munitions of war to France; but Denmark was a heavy loser by the bargain, for the expenses not only greatly exceeded the receipts, but the affair also rendered England very dissatisfied.[34]
According as the representatives of foreign courts had at their command more diplomatic brutality, finesse, or money, the power was in turn with the Russian or French envoy, at times with the English, and they guided or ordered the Danish ministers, and through them the king. How matters went on is seen from the fact that about fourteen hundred French adventurers, mostly of the lowest stamp, were appointed in the Danish civil and military service. The French envoy had recommended, among other excellent Frenchmen, a sculptor, who set to work on a statue of the king, which gradually cost 700,000 dollars, but was not finished. When Frederick V. died, the country was in a hopeless state of ruin. The army and navy were neglected, the state debt was frightfully swollen, the taxing power of the country was exhausted, and the morals of the higher classes were utterly corrupted, while the lower classes were sullenly murmuring. Into this chaos of poverty, necessity, and discontent, the youthful king, it was expected, would introduce order, and hopes were entertained of him as the regenerator of Denmark.
On the morning of January 14, Privy Councillor von Bernstorff appeared on the balcony of the Christiansborg palace, and declared, in the traditional manner and with the words: "King Frederick V. is dead; King Christian VII. is living;" the late crown prince ruler of the united kingdoms. To which the people replied: "May he not only live long, but reign well, like his father."
During the late king's illness, the crown prince had been very sad, which the courtiers had regarded as a sign of sensibility; but those who were intimate with him were aware that he was oppressed by the fear of reigning. Reverdil inspired him with some degree of courage; and he went through the ceremonial receptions with a grace that charmed the entire court. No immediate change occurred in the ministry; but, for all that, the supreme power passed into other hands. The son did not inherit the father's great predilection for minister Moltke. On the contrary, the young king regarded the minister as a man who had misapplied his influence over the late king to his own selfish ends. These notions were suggested to him by Reventlow, who, though he deserved reproach in other respects, was honest, and hence not well disposed toward Moltke, whom he considered the fosterer of the great extravagance which had been carried on with the finances of the state under Frederick V.
Reventlow was so assured of his unbounded influence over the king, as to feel convinced that he would govern the kingdom in future. In pursuance of this, he had the drawers in his office endorsed—Denmark, Norway, the Duchies; and showed the king this arrangement, with the remark: "Here I shall keep the papers of the two kingdoms; and there those belonging to the duchy." The king smiled at the impertinence, and said nothing. At any rate, it did not cause him anger; for, ere long, he lavished marks of favour on Reventlow and his relations. On the day of his succession, he nominated his ex-governor chief gentleman of the bed-chamber; and a fortnight later, on the occasion of the king's birthday, the insignia of the Order of the Elephant, the highest in Denmark, were bestowed on Reventlow. On the same day, the king also appointed Von Sperling, his former page of the chamber, and a nephew of Reventlow, his third equerry.
This young gentleman possessed considerable influence over the king. Though not distinguished by any great ability, he was a handsome man, with an agreeable temper. From the day when the crown prince had an establishment of his own, he had been his page, and had cleverly contrived to acquire the friendship of his master, which he now intended to exploiter for his own advantage. According to Reverdil, this intimacy had a very deleterious effect on the crown prince; for Sperling was older than his master, and a thorough debauchee. He filled the prince's mind with dangerous knowledge, and contrived to influence his imagination and corrupt his heart.[35]
The country had no cause, either, to rejoice at the intimacy; for Sperling, through his indulgence in sensual pleasures, offered a bad example to the king, who, as it was, did not require example. The result of his strict education was, that he determined, so soon as he became his own master, to indulge in every form of vice, out of sheer obstinacy. A more dangerous man in this respect, however, was the king's valet, John Kirchoff. Reventlow did a real service, by removing this man from the presence of the king. On February 11, the valet was dismissed with a pension of 1,200 dollars, and his debts, amounting to 3,000 dollars, were paid by the treasury. But Reventlow, hearing that Kirchoff, instead of being grateful, was conspiring against him, ordered him to leave Copenhagen in a week; and he proceeded to Norway.
Shortly after his accession, Christian had an idea of becoming a great general, and imagined that he would surpass Frederick the Great. He often regretted to his cousin, Prince Charles of Hesse, that he was born on a throne, and believed that he could have raised himself to it by his talents and deserts, if he had been born in the lowest class. He had an unbridled passion for female society, but had not, as yet, found an object on which to fix his affections. He had been imbued with very strict religious principles, which he could not combat, and which he consequently wished to destroy. He and Prince Charles frequently spoke about religion; and the latter strove to soften the severity of the king's views, by leading him back to the love of God. One afternoon, when the prince went to Christian, he found him greatly troubled in mind, because he had to take the communion the next morning. The prince spoke about it as the most blessed and significant of religious rites. They conversed for a long time, and the king was greatly affected; saying, of his own accord, that it was impossible for Christ not to have existed, and fulfilled, by His sacrifice, the very words of the institution of the holy supper, for ever since Christianity had been known, every sect, whatever might be its doctrine and heresy, had retained the sacrament. The two young men then prayed together, and the king was greatly moved. Going up soon after to the queen-mother, he went into her room, saying: "Grandmamma cannot guess what we have been doing?" The queen being unable to do so, Christian added: "We have been praying together, and were very pious;" and then almost died of laughing.
The young king had scarce taken up his residence at Christiansborg ere he had an affair of honour, if it may be so called, with a page of his chamber. The latter was a very honest and good youth. The king, before going to bed, maintained the opinion, that a king, who was at the same time a great general, was more than another king. The other, doubtless, willing to check the king's military ambition, thought himself obliged to defend the contrary view. Christian became very angry; and the reasonings of the page at length rendered the monarch so wild, that he gave his opponent a box on the ears. The latter went the next morning to complain to the grand chamberlain, Count Reventlow. The count was of opinion that the affair could not be passed over in silence; and made the page write a letter, in which he spoke strongly about the honour of a gentleman. The letter was dated from Kiöge, to which place the page pretended that he had retired. The king took the matter in very ill part; and Count Reventlow coming soon after to scold him, the king was not particularly pleased with him either. The matter ended here, and the page came back from the room in which he was hidden,—the king having stated that he bore no malice against the man, and that it was merely an outbreak of vivacity against an opposition which had displeased him.
These little scenes happened daily, and aided no little in causing the king to assume a higher tone. One day he had such a quarrel with the grand chamberlain, that the latter almost fainted. The king then became alarmed, and fetched a glass of water for him to drink: the chamberlain recovered, but insisted on retiring from his post. Queen Sophia Magdalena, who was Reventlow's great protector, sent for Prince Charles, and begged him, on every account, to patch up this affair, which had been carried too far on both sides. When the prince proceeded to the king, the latter spoke first about the affair, and gave his cousin an opportunity for representing the injury he did himself in the eyes of the public by dismissing his old governor. The king yielded; sent for Reventlow, spoke to him kindly, and begged him to forget the affair.
The representations which the prince was frequently obliged to make to the king against his decided opinions, naturally rendered their daily conversations less agreeable than at the outset. However, everything still went on tolerably well; and the king felt that his cousin had no other interest in what he said than the welfare of the kingdom. But gradually disputes about religion began. The king's desire for the society of females, and the strictness of his religious principles, were constantly in opposition. After speaking to his dangerous friends, who inspired him with the most relaxed principles about religion, Christian only saw one way of escape—by breaking with his own convictions. Prince Charles noticed this in Christian's dark humour: his love of gaiety changed to bitter remarks, and a desire to find occasions to quarrel about trifles. Seeing this almost insurmountable wish to break out in debauchery, Prince Charles thought it his duty to tell the king frankly that he could not do better than conclude, as soon as possible, his marriage with the princess who had been promised him. Christian regarded marriage as the greatest possible bore; but Charles, who was then engaged to the king's sister, looked at it very differently. The king, however, told his cousin to speak to Bernstorff on the subject; and the latter, understanding the state of matters, resolved to hurry the royal marriage on.[36]
A man, who distinguished himself in the naval history of the north, Count Frederick von Danneskjold Samsöe,[37] a grandson of King Christian V. and the Countess von Samsöe, who had been in the service of the state during the early years of Frederick V.'s reign, happened to be in Copenhagen at this time; and the young monarch ordered him to draw up a general survey of the condition of the kingdom. The count had performed the task by January 23. Danneskjold was a sincere friend of his country, but of a reckless and violent character. In his exposé, he threw the fault of the numerous defects and the mismanagement which he discovered in the administration, upon Bernstorff, and accused that minister of increasing the national debt. He declared that the marriage arranged with an English princess was displeasing to the nation. Bernstorff despised the Danes, and only appointed foreigners as officials. He favoured luxury by protection, and had allowed the army to fall into decay. The commercial treaty with Morocco had done the country the greatest injury; and finally, Bernstorff had revoked a royal decree about embroidery on clothes, and thus insulted the hereditary sovereign.
Although Count Danneskjold stood in high favour with the Queen Dowager Sophia Magdalena, who during the early part of the new reign had great power over the king, he was unable to overthrow Bernstorff. On the contrary, there were many signs that Bernstorff's influence had grown under the new king. Count St. Germain, however, was dismissed from the presidency of the War Ministry, which he had himself established, and Privy Councillor von Rosenkranz took his place.[38]
Bernstorff, Reventlow, and Moltke, formed from this time a triumvirate. Twice a week the privy council of state attended the king, but rarely left him a choice between two opinions. If the king expressed an idea that varied from theirs, they looked serious, and offered a protest, upon which the timid Christian at once held his tongue, and sanctioned the measure. Of course this conduct on the part of the gentlemen displeased the king, the more so because he had no very high opinion of them. That he did not love Reventlow, whose rough mode of education he had not yet forgotten, is only natural; Moltke he knew to be a man who only regarded his own interests, while Bernstorff's vanity and cringing subserviency were repulsive to him. To this must be added, that the wearisome way in which the discussions were carried on horribly bored the young king; and many were of opinion that this was purposely done by the triumvirate, in order to disgust the king with governing. They cared very little how Christian spent his time, or what associates he selected, so long as there was no evident attempt to tear the power from them. For this reason, several men of talent, whom they feared, were removed from the king's person.
The royal family consisted, at this time, of the widows of the two last kings,—Sophia Magdalena and Juliana Maria, the son of the latter, the hereditary Prince Frederick, and the three princesses—Charlotte Amelia, a sister of Christian VI., and Sophia Magdalena, and Louisa, sisters of Christian VII. A third sister of the king, Wilhelmina Caroline, was married to William I., Elector of Hesse Cassel.
The old queen, Sophia Magdalena, a princess of Brandenburg Kulmbach by birth, had exercised great influence over public affairs during the sixteen years of her husband's reign, and would have gladly done the same now. Juliana Maria had, as yet, not interfered at all in state affairs, although she doubtless strove to acquire influence as much as her mother-in-law.
Reventlow, who probably felt that he was not as securely seated in power as he would have liked, hence looked about for a supporter, and found a most willing one in the king's grandmother. By laying aside her former haughty demeanour, she contrived to gain considerable influence over the king, and gave way to all his whims, in order that she might keep him in her leading-strings. One day, the king, who was continually playing tricks, when dining at Hirschholm took up the sugar-dredger, slipped behind grandmamma's chair, and began sprinkling her hair.
"What is your Majesty about?" the old lady asked.
"Do not be angry with me, dearest grandmamma," the king said; "I am your sweetest Christian, you know."
The queen smiled, and swallowed the pill in silence.
Such jokes caused the young king, even at that time, great amusement. Once, when he was at the theatre with a circle of brilliant courtiers, wearing his gold-embroidered admiral's uniform, he walked up and down the back of the royal box with a grin on his face, which was always a sign that he was meditating some trick. In one of the entr'actes, when tea was handed round, a young lady was trying to cool the hot fluid by blowing it, when the king crept up to her and blew such a blast into the cup that its entire contents spirted about. The king quickly turned on his heel, and laughed so heartily and childishly that the lady could not but forgive the trick which had procured him a few merry moments.
With the summer, fresh proofs of Sophia Magdalena's powerful influence were given. She heartily detested Count Moltke, because he had contrived to keep her aloof from the business of the state, and she now, after an interval of sixteen years, wished to avenge herself on him. The favourable moment had arrived. The king did not think that Moltke had truly served his country. Reventlow desired nothing more than the downfall of his brother-in-law, and Bernstorff no longer required the powerful patron who had gained him his ministerial post.
At the beginning of summer, the king, accompanied by his relatives, visited various public resorts,—among others, the park, on St. John's day, when a great public festival is held there annually. During a visit which the king paid to the convent of Wallö, which was founded by Sophia Magdalena, the latter succeeded in overthrowing the detested premier. The order which stripped him of all his offices, except the presidency of the Academy, was handed to him by Privy Councillor von Plessen, whom Moltke had previously turned out of office. Moltke was dismissed without a pension, and retired to his estate of Bregentved, which had been given him by Frederick V.
The old queen wished to place Danneskjold Samsöe in Moltke's place. For this object, she persuaded the king to summon him to the privy council, and he was soon after re-appointed to his old office of "Surintendant de la Marine," with a salary of 8,000 dollars. Rosenkrantz was also driven into the background at the same time as Moltke, and no one regretted his fall.
Space fails me to record all the intrigues that went on for the next few months, or how Bernstorff was all but overthrown by the jealousy of Danneskjold, and only owed his salvation to the generous intercession of Reverdil and the king's latest favourite, Prince Charles of Hesse.[39] Bernstorff was appointed Director of the Sound Dues, the most profitable state office, and the king imparted to him the charges which Danneskjold had brought against him. Bernstorff triumphantly refuted them, and appeared more secure of the royal favour than ever.
It was the usage for the kings of Denmark to visit their states during the first two years of their reign. Christian did not devote the summer of 1766 to any journey, as he was engaged with the marriage of his two sisters. The younger was married to Prince Charles of Hesse; the elder to the hereditary prince of Sweden. The latter alliance was the result of an old engagement contracted with the Swedish nation while the prince was still a boy. The Queen of Sweden, sister of the King of Prussia, would have gladly broken off the marriage, and given her son a princess of her own family; but the Estates insisted. The Danish ministers would sooner have advised war than accept such an affront.
These marriages being satisfactorily arranged, Christian VII. bethought himself of his own wife, for whom he did not feel so great a yearning as he had done a year previously, ere he had become his own master, and tasted the nocturnal delights of the capital in the far from cleanly company of his friend Von Sperling. The marriage had been originally arranged for 1767, but Christian's ministers and friends, seeing his tendency to libertinism, had wisely, as they thought, hurried it on. The sober Danes were beginning to mutter about the scandals which took place at night in the quiet streets of the Residenz. They had probably never heard of our Prince Hal, and hence could find no excuse for the wild sallies of their young monarch, in which he broke glasses and furniture, attacked watchmen, and more than once was taken into custody. Being such a roué as regards women, it appears surprising that Christian VII. consented to marry at so early an age; but it is probable that some latent suspicions about the designs of Juliana Maria urged him to listen to the advice of his friends. Hence, when the news reached him that Caroline Matilda was arriving, he hastened with a very good affectation of lover-like eagerness to meet her.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HAPPY COUPLE.
THE MEETING AT ROESKILDE—ENTRANCE INTO COPENHAGEN—THE QUEEN'S HOUSEHOLD—THE ROYAL FAMILY—COURT AMUSEMENTS—TRAVELLING IMPRESSIONS—THE CORONATION—THE FIRST QUARREL—THE KING GOES TO HOLSTEIN—DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK—MILADY—REVERDIL LEAVES THE COURT—THE NEW FAVOURITE—STRANGE CONDUCT OF THE KING.
The royal couple saw each other for the first time at Roeskilde, four (German) miles from the Danish capital, where Christian VII., accompanied by the hereditary Prince Frederick and his own brother-in-law, Prince Charles of Hesse, welcomed Caroline Matilda. We can easily forgive the young king, if, at the sight of such beauty as hers, he forgot court proprieties, and embraced and kissed his bride at Roeskilde in the presence of the company. My readers will remember a precisely similar instance at the meeting of a princess of Denmark and a Prince of Wales, not so very long ago.
Judging from the mere exterior, Christian VII. ought to have produced an equally favourable impression on the heart of Caroline Matilda. The person of the young king, though considerably under the middle height, was finely proportioned: light and compact, but yet possessing a considerable degree of agility and strength. His complexion was remarkably fair; his features, if not handsome, were regular; his eyes blue, lively, and expressive; his hair very light; he had a good forehead and aquiline nose; a handsome mouth and fine set of teeth. He was elegant rather than magnificent in his dress; courteous in his manners; of a very amorous constitution; warm and irritable in his temper; but his anger, if soon excited, was easily appeased; and he was generous to profusion.[40]
From Roeskilde, the young queen was conducted to the palace of Frederiksberg, close to Copenhagen, where she stopped till Nov. 8, on which day she made her solemn entrance into the capital, seated by the side of her sister-in-law, the Landgravine Louise, and under the escort of all the grand dignitaries of the crown. The marriage ceremony was then performed in the palace chapel.
The kehraus was danced at the ball, and was led by Prince Charles of Hesse, who had his wife as partner, while Christian danced with Caroline Matilda. Suddenly the king, who was in very good spirits, shouted to Prince Charles, "Lead the kehraus through all the apartments." He passed through several rooms, and, on reaching the queen's ante-room, the king ordered him to enter her rooms, which he did. Frau von Plessen, however, rushed at Prince Charles like a dragon, and declared that he should never enter the queen's bedroom. The king, hearing this speech, said to the prince, "Don't bother yourself about an old woman's twaddle." The prince, therefore, continued the dance, and passed through the queen's bedroom. Frau von Plessen made a tremendous noise, which greatly displeased the king.[41]
In honour of the day, a large silver medal was struck, which displayed on the obverse the busts and names of the newly-married pair; and on the reverse, an allegorical female form, reclining upon an anchor, and holding a wreath of flowers in her hand, with the motto, "Recurrentibus signis." Numerous orders and titles were distributed in commemoration of this auspicious event.
The young queen, it is evident, won golden opinions from all manner of men. Even the Danish author of the "Secret History" is compelled to avow: "I saw this ill-fated princess when she first set her foot on the soil of. Denmark. I did not join in the shouts of the multitude; but I was charmed with her appearance. Everything she saw was grandeur and festivity; she was received like a divinity, and almost worshipped, at least by those of the masculine gender. Her animated, beautiful features, her fine blue eyes, beamed with delight on all around her."
The English envoy was so delighted at Caroline Matilda's reception, that he wrote home at once:—"The princess seems to gain approbation and affection wherever she shows herself, and those more closely connected with her praise unanimously and in the highest terms her disposition and conduct." The English cabinet, however, did not put entire faith in this enthusiasm. The youth of the princess could not but cause anxiety, because the king, her husband, was, so to speak, a child too. Hence the court of St. James sent the British agent the following warning advice in reply to the above outburst:—"Her Majesty is entering on the most important period of her life. At so tender an age she has been sent forth alone into a foreign distant ocean, where it will be necessary to exercise the highest caution and good sense, and to steer with thoughtful attention, in order that she may at the same time succeed in gaining the love of her court and people, and maintain the dignity of the exalted position to which Providence has summoned her."[42]
The warning was not unfounded. There are good grounds for believing that Christian, during the period between his engagement and marriage, had been entangled in other snares. It could hardly have been otherwise, when we bear in mind the deleterious influences brought to bear on him, and the temptations to which a boy who had been so severely educated was exposed, when he found himself his own master at the unripe age of seventeen. I do not hesitate to assert that the worst influences had been at work on the young king's mind and senses, and the following confirms my assertion. We have seen that the marriage took place on November 8, and on November 25, Ogier, the sharp-sighted French envoy at Copenhagen, considered himself justified in reporting to Paris:—"The princess has produced hardly any impression on the king's heart, and had she been even more amiable, she would have experienced the same fate. For, how could she please a man who most seriously believes that it is not fashionable (n'est pas du bon air) for a husband to love his wife?" A pretty specimen, forsooth, of the effect of the mistress doctrine which was omnipotent in the eighteenth century! We see that poor Christian, in a few short months, had made frightfully rapid progress in the corruption of his age. As Reverdil tells us, with a groan, "a royal person in his bed appeared to him rather an object of respect than of love."[43]
The queen's household had been previously appointed, and Frau von Plessen, daughter of Privy Councillor von Berkentin, was selected as grand mistress so far back as August. The choice was a most unfortunate one, for this lady, although respectable, was austere, haughty, and decidedly in opposition.[44] Her apartments were twice a week the meeting-place of all the malcontents, and the ministers and old courtiers, after dining with the king, went there to lament over the backslidings and corrupt society of the young people by whom the king was surrounded. Still, this choice, though unwise, was not so pernicious as that of Fräulein von Eyben as lady in waiting.
The good understanding among the other members of the royal family did not at first appear to be disturbed by the king's marriage. It is true that Sophia Magdalena, who was sixty-six years of age, and whose heart was distracted between fear of God and ambition, could not thoroughly sympathise with the girlish Caroline Matilda, but it is probable that she was the more willing to forgive her her youth and beauty, because she did not apprehend any political rival in her.
Juliana Maria, the king's step-mother, did not at first display any open hostility to the young queen. That she hated her as an obstacle to the advancement of her own son, there can be no doubt, or that she had made various underhand efforts to prevent the marriage. She was obliged to be cautious, however: she was not popular with the nation, and had held no sway over her husband, who toward the end of his reign hated and avoided a woman who was the opposite of his prematurely lost Louisa. Hence Juliana Maria hailed Matilda as the consort of Christian VII. with well-dissembled smiles and flattering blandishments. This task, however painful, she performed in her best style, and if her malice had not been so notorious, Matilda might have believed she should find an affectionate friend—a second mother in Juliana Maria.[45]
Princess Charlotte Amelia, the king's aunt, only lived for religious practices and charity. She inhabited the palace of Amalienborg, named after her, in the great royal market, which is now the Academy, and the memory of her benefactions to the poor still flourishes among the Danish people.[46] Princess Louise, the king's dearly loved sister, had only shortly before been married, and felt herself much too happy to envy her sister-in-law.
After the arrival of the young queen one festival followed another, to which the public were generally admitted, although some amusements were reserved for the court, to which only the élite were invited. At the commencement of Christian's reign only Danish plays and ballets were performed at the theatre, but now the king ordered a French troupe from Paris, who first gave their performances on the Danish stage, but afterwards in a theatre expressly prepared for them in the Christiansborg.
On December 4, the first masquerade was given at the palace to the first six classes, to which all the officers of the garrison and the foreign envoys were invited. During the reign of Frederick V., jovial though it was, no attempt had been made to introduce such mummeries, as the sober Danes called them, but Christian considered that he could go to any lengths.
The court, yearning for amusements of every description, even resolved to give theatrical performances, in which the king and suite played the chief parts. Among other pieces performed was Voltaire's Zaire, which exactly suited Christian's taste. It was played in the original, and the king represented one of the principal characters with great applause. At first, only a select circle was admitted to the performances, but, gradually, the public were invited as well.
But while the court amused themselves, the public, generally, murmured. At the head of the malcontents was Reventlow, who would rush into Frau von Plessen's apartments, brandishing the bills sent in to him for payment, and objurgating fiercely. His nephew, Von Sperling, knew how to stir up his bile, by casting on those whom he wished to injure the mad expenses which he had himself suggested. It was he, in fact, who most contributed to bring into fashion theatricals and masked balls. The youth of the king, and the ennui which began at an early period to oppress him, supplied an excuse for these expensive amusements, which were madness in a poor and indebted state. Still, the public might have pardoned it if the court had managed to attract respect, for nations, though victims to the magnificence of their sovereigns, readily forgive, and even take a pride in lavish expenditure when they believe they share it; but the king, indulging in the most puerile amusements, running without object from one palace to the other, and decried by the complaints of his own ministers about his private conduct, entirely forfeited public respect. A proof of this was furnished during the first winter of his reign. A building belonging to the palace, from which it was only separated by a canal, and in which was a brewery with an immense wood store, having caught fire, Münter,[47] a German preacher, took advantage of the occasion to preach a sermon against the king's person and the amusements of the court. He represented the misfortunes of the nation as being at their height and irremediable, unless Providence granted immediate help, and unless the warning just given produced a salutary effect. This sermon, it is true, caused the preacher a reprimand, but it was greatly applauded by austere persons and devotees.[48]
And what did Caroline Matilda think of her reception? An opinion can be formed from the following interesting letter which she wrote home, describing her voyage and arrival in Copenhagen, to her brother the Duke of York:—
Copenhagen, December 25, 1766.
Sir and dear Brother,As this epistle will exceed the bounds of a common letter, you may call it Travels through part of Germany and Denmark, with some cursory remarks on the genius and manners of the people.
Our navigation, though fortunate enough, seemed to me tedious and uncomfortable. I almost wished a contrary wind had driven me back to that coast from which I had sailed with so much regret. Were I a man, I do not think I should envy you the mighty post of admiral, as I am a true coward on the main. Though I found the opposite shore very different from that of England, in regard to populousness, agriculture, roads and conveniences for travelling, I was glad to be safely landed, and vowed to Neptune never to invade his empire; only wishing that he would be graciously pleased to let me have another passage to the Queen of the Isles. What I have seen of Germany exhibits a contrast of barren lands and some few cultivated spots; here and there some emaciated cattle, inhospitable forests, castles with turrets and battlements out of repair, half inhabited by counts and barons of the Holy Empire, wretched cottages, multitudes of soldiers, and a few husbandmen; pride and ceremonial on one side, slavery and abjection on the other.
As for principalities, every two or three hours I entered the dominions of a new sovereign; and, indeed, often I passed through the place of their highnesses' residence without being able to guess that it was the seat of these little potentates; I only judged by the antiquity of their palaces, falling to ruins, that these princes may justly boast of a race of illustrious progenitors, as it seemed they had lived there from time immemorial. As we judge of everything by comparison, I observed that there is more comfort, more elegance, more conveniency, in the villa of a citizen of London than in these gloomy mansions, hung up with rotten tapestries, where a serene highness meurt d'ennui, in all the state of a monarch, amongst a few attendants, called master of the horse, grand ecuyer, grand chamberlain, without appointments. There is no such thing here as a middle class of people living in affluence and independence.
Both men and women of fashion affect to dress more rich than elegant. The female part of the burghers' families at Hamburg and Altona dress inconceivably fantastic. The most unhappy part of the Germans are the tenants of the little needy princes, who squeeze them to keep up their own grandeur. These petty sovereigns, ridiculously proud of titles, ancestry, and show, give no sort of encouragement to the useful arts, though industry, application, and perseverance, are the characteristics of the German nation, especially the mechanical part of it.
The roads are almost impassable. The carriages of the nobility and gentry infinitely worse than the stage-coaches in England; and the inns want all the accommodations they are intended for.
You may easily imagine that the sight of a new queen, from the position of the kingdom to the capital, brought upon my passage great crowds of people from the adjacent towns and villages, yet I believe you may see more on a fair day from Charing Cross to the Royal Exchange than I have met upon the road from Altona to Copenhagen. The gentlemen and ladies who were sent to compliment me, and increased my retinue, made no addition to my entertainment. Besides the reservedness and gravity peculiar to their nation, they thought it was a mark of respect and submission never to presume to answer me but by monosyllables.
What I have seen of Danish Holstein and of the duchy of Schleswig, is well watered, and produces plenty of corn. The inhabitants of those countries differ little or nothing from other Germans. Some parts of Jutland consist of barren mountains; but the valleys are, in general, well inhabited and fruitful. The face of the country presents a number of large forests, but I did not see a river navigable for a barge of the same burden as those that come up the river Thames to London. Spring and autumn are seasons scarcely known here; to the sultry heat of August succeeds a severe winter, and the frost continues for eight months, and with little alteration. It seems as if the soil were unfavourable to vegetable productions, for those that have been procured for my table, at a great expense, were unsavoury, and of the worst kind. As game is here in plenty, and the coasts are generally well supplied with fish, I could have lived very well on these two articles had they been better dressed, but their cookery, which is a mixture of Danish and German ingredients, cannot be agreeable to an English palate.
I shall not attempt to learn the language of the country, which is a harsh dialect of the Teutonic. The little French and High-Dutch I know will be of great service to me at court, where they are generally spoken with a bad accent and a vicious pronunciation. The peasants, as to property, are still in a state of vassalage; and the nobility, who are slaves at court, tyrannize over their inferiors and tenants in their dominions. These poor husbandmen, with such discouragements to industry, are obliged to maintain the cavalry in victuals and lodgings; likewise to furnish them with money. These disadvantages, added to their natural indolence, make this valuable class of people less useful and more needy than in free states, where they enjoy, in common with other subjects, that freedom which is a spur to industry. You must not expect any conveniency and accommodation in their inns; all those I found upon the road had been provided by the court.
Copenhagen, though a small capital, makes no contemptible appearance at a distance. All the artillery of the castles and forts, with the warlike music of the guards and divers companies of burghers, in rich uniforms, announced my entry into this royal residence. I was conducted, amidst the acclamations of the inhabitants, to the palace, when the king, the queen dowager, and Prince Frederick, her son, with the nobility of both sexes, who had, on this occasion, displayed all their finery, received me with extraordinary honours, according to the etiquette. The king's youth, good nature, and levity, require no great penetration to be discerned in his taste, amusements, and his favourites. He seems all submission to the queen, who has got over him such an ascendancy as her arts and ambition seem likely to preserve. Her darling son, whom she wished not to be removed a step farther from the throne, is already proud and aspiring like herself.
I have been more than once mortified with the superior knowledge and experience for which the queen takes care to praise herself, and offended at the want of respect and attention in the prince. As such unmerited slights cannot be resented without an open rupture, I rather bear with them than disunite the royal family, and appear the cause of court cabals, by showing my displeasure. It seems the king teaches his subjects, by example, the doctrine of passive obedience. Few of the courtiers look like gentlemen; and their ladies appear, in the circle, inanimate, like the wax figures in Westminster Abbey.
I have been lately at Frederiksborg. It is a magnificent house, built in the modern taste, but ill-contrived, and situated in the most unhealthy soil, in the middle of a lake. The paintings and furniture are truly royal.
To remind me that I am mortal, I have visited the cathedral church of Roeskilde, where the kings and queens of Denmark were formerly buried. Several of their monuments still exist, which are, as well as this ancient structure, of a Gothic taste.
As you flatter me with the pleasure of seeing you soon in Copenhagen, I postpone mentioning other particulars till this agreeable interview, and remain, with British sincerity,
Sir, and dear brother,
Your most affectionate sister,
Matilda Caroline.
If any differences subsisted between the couple at this time, they did not reach the public knowledge; and the conduct of Caroline Matilda was that of a most devoted wife. Thus, when Christian was attacked in April, 1767, by a scarlet fever, which was thought infectious, the queen assiduously attended him; nor would she leave him, day or night, till his life was out of danger. On the following May 1, their Majesties' coronation was performed in the chapel of the Christiansborg Palace, by the Bishop of Seeland. On this occasion, his Majesty assumed the motto of Gloria ex amore patriæ. As the kings of Denmark do not receive the crown from any other hands than their own, the ceremony of putting it on is performed by themselves.[49] It was about this time that Prince Charles first entertained doubts as to Christian's sanity. He imparted his suspicions to Bernstorff, who acknowledged the truth of his remark, for Count de St. Germain had spoken to him about it, and said: "The king has a singular and very rare malady; in France we call it fou de cœur."
And yet a cloud was gathering, at first no bigger than a man's hand, which would soon overcast this apparently happy life. Frau von Plessen strove for influence and power. If she could so contrive that Caroline Matilda should attain as much mastery over Christian VII. as Sophia Magdalena had held over Christian VI., she, as her confidante, would easily be able to direct matters as she pleased. The speculating lady, unfortunately, fancied she had discovered the best way of effecting this, by advising the young queen to behave more reservedly towards her husband, who—so the clever lady-in-waiting calculated—would become all the more in love with his beautiful wife, and more indulgent to her wishes.
The inexperienced Caroline Matilda but too readily followed the advice of her grand mistress, and hence-forward behaved with coy reserve and assumed coldness toward her hot-blooded husband. When he wished to pay the queen an evening visit, he was put off with various excuses, and it was not till he had repeatedly requested an interview with his wife that he was admitted.
Christian, whom any opposition drove to a state bordering on madness, determined to make a tour in Holstein, where he could give way to his propensities unchecked. The queen greatly wished to accompany her husband, which he declined, and the first serious quarrel took place. She was the more to be pitied, honest Reverdil tells us, because she was enceinte, and, through an instinct common to nearly all wives, had grown into an inclination for the father of her child. She attributed her disgrace to Count von Holck, who very probably strengthened the king in his resolution. Consequently, she insisted that he should be left behind as well, and it was not without difficulty that she obtained so weak and humiliating a vengeance.
Reverdil did his best to patch up this quarrel. He urged the king to write his wife the most affectionate letters, and, as Reverdil composed them himself, the queen was to some degree pacified. The account which Reverdil gives us of the royal tour is very lamentable. Christian offended the old Danish nobility by his frivolity and recklessness, while his amusements were so puerile, and the courtiers whom he appeared to prefer so unfitted, that very unfavourable judgments were formed of him.
While staying at Traventhal, the king talked a great deal about the travelling scheme, which he carried out soon after. He wanted it to be different, however, from what it really became. He would have liked to forget business and etiquette, become a private person, and try what success his personal qualities would obtain him in society. He strove very hard to persuade Reverdil to accompany him across the frontier with one valet, and it was not till the Swiss refused point blank to go that the king gave up his design.
During Christian's absence, Caroline Matilda received a terrible shock from the death of her beloved brother, the Duke of York. The young prince left England in August, and proceeded to Paris, where he was magnificently fêted. While he was in France, the Queen of Denmark wrote him the following letter:—
To H.R.H. Edward, Duke of York.
Sir and dear Brother,
You are now in a kingdom that I should like to see in preference to all the countries in Europe, though I am sure my curiosity will never be gratified in that respect. You may, perhaps, attribute this desire to the levity of our sex, which has a strong analogy to the volatile genius of the French. No,—my motive is, that I should be glad to see at home those people who have been for so many centuries past our rivals in arts and army. Pray write to me a good account of Paris, which, I am informed, must yield the precedency to modern London. When you go to the south of France, I am so unreasonable as to expect another account of the provinces. Take care of your health, and let not all the princesses of Europe make you forget.
Your most affectionate
Caroline.
The duke had reached Monaco in his travels, and died there on Sept. 17, after a malignant fever which lasted fourteen days. The blow, so unexpected, was severely felt by the whole family, and by none more than Caroline Matilda, who had been keeping her own troubles locked in her bosom, till she could impart them to an affectionate brother, whose arrival she so fully expected. In the first outburst of her sorrow, she wrote the following touching letter to her mother, the Princess Dowager of Wales:—
Madam and revered Mother,
Give me leave to condole with your royal highness in the loss of your dutiful son, and my beloved brother, the Duke of York. I feel, with my own grief, your sorrow. I beg you will convey the same sentiments to his Majesty the King, my brother. When I reflect on the circumstances of the untimely death of this amiable prince in a foreign land, and perhaps deprived of the comfort and assistance he should have found in his native country, I still more lament his fate. I am extremely concerned for your royal highness's indisposition; but I hope this melancholy event, which maternal tenderness cannot but severely feel, as it was ordered by the unfathomable decrees of Providence, will be so far reconciled to your superior understanding and piety, as to adore and to submit.
I am, with great deference,
Your Royal Highness's
Respectful daughter,
Caroline.
When the king returned from his Holstein tour, it was arranged that the queen should drive seven or eight leagues from Copenhagen to meet him. He received her with all the empressement of which he was capable; he got into her carriage, and those who were only imperfectly acquainted with the state of things might imagine that he was resuming his true place.
But the conduct which the queen had before assumed in the hope of entirely winning her husband's affection, was now dictated by resentment. The party of Juliana Maria, who desired a separation between the couple, had informed Caroline Matilda of her husband's conduct while absent, and the result was a decided coldness. This produced such savageness in the king, and he was so dissatisfied, that he complained about his consort in the presence of his domestics. This was a famous opening for these creatures, who took all possible trouble to direct Christian's attention to other ladies. One of the royal runners, of the name of Hjorth, hence said to the king one day that it would be easy to avenge himself for the queen's coldness, as there were plenty of fair dames who would accept the king's visits more than willingly. His Majesty only required to keep a mistress, and such a person his most gracious master could find at any moment. Hjorth proposed to the king a well-known Hetæra, called "Stiefelett-Kathrine," on account of her beautiful feet, whose acquaintance the pander had, probably, made beforehand.[50] Christian willingly assented, saw the girl, found her pretty and insinuating, and entered into the unfortunate connexion with her, by which he was led into the most horrible and open profligacy.
The leader of these orgies was Count Conrad von Holck, a scampish and good-tempered young fellow, of the same age as the king. The ministers, who should have kept a watchful eye on everything that might have an injurious effect on the character of the young king, were not sorry to see the autocrat yielding to the seductive influences of his loose favourite. But Count Conrad in no way betrayed the slightest desire to interfere in the business of the state, and was consequently harmless.
The growing influence of this minion drove from court the only honest man remaining at it. One evening, Holck promised Milady a box at the theatre, and Reverdil saw her sitting above the maids of honour, who were facing the queen. Being at the time close to Holck, the virtuous Swiss could not refrain from speaking out. "Sir," he said, "though you may turn into ridicule a hundred times an expression which I have frequent occasion to repeat, I say again, that a man can be neither a good subject, nor a good servant, who does not weep to see such a creature thus defy the queen, and the king make himself, to the great peril of the state, the greluchon of a foreign minister." The next day Reverdil received a written order from the king to leave Copenhagen in twenty-four hours.
The first important sign of the king's most favourable sentiments toward the young protégé was Holck's appointment, on December 21, 1767, as Court Marshal. From this time Count Holck managed all the festivities at court, where comedies, balls, masquerades, and excursions followed each other uninterruptedly. The king, however, preferred, to all these distractions, any opportunity of yielding to his temperament without the trammels of a court. Holck frequently gave brilliant luncheons at the Blaagard, a castellated building outside the north gate, used at that time for all sorts of festivities, and Christian took much pleasure in them. At night, however, Holck accompanied the king on his visits to Milady and back again, during which, street riots were but too frequent.
It has been urged in apology for Holck, that he did not really lead the king into these excesses, but could not refrain from sharing in them, through fear of incurring the king's displeasure. Moreover, he considered his presence at these extravagances necessary, partly because he at times succeeded in moderating the intended outrages, partly because he was able to give the people offended by the damage sustained a secret hint that the doer of the mischief was his most sacred Majesty the King. Only in that way was it possible to save the king from abuse, or even from personal violence. Holck, it is further said, did the reckless young king a real service, because, in the end, he induced him to give up his connexion with the notorious Milady, who had not only led the king into illicit amours, but had also persuaded him to make nocturnal sallies in the streets, to fight with the watchmen, and force his way into low houses whose keepers had given her cause of offence, to break glasses, bottles, and windows, and commit similar acts of folly. In truth, it may have appeared evident to Holck that such almost incredible behaviour would eventually rob the king of all respect, and expose him to the ridicule of the nation.
It is not my intention to bring before the reader the lengthened chronique scandaleuse which I have been compelled to wade through. In giving what I have, it was rather my purpose to offer a sketch of court life a hundred years ago, as an introduction to an historical drama which may seek its counterpart in vain in the world's annals.
Before concluding this chapter, space may be granted to a small paragraph from the "Annual Register," which offers a further sign of the times:—