CHAPTER VII.

WHAT THEY SAID IN ENGLAND.

COLONEL KEITH--BAD NEWS FROM COPENHAGEN--DEATH OF THE PRINCESS OF WALES--THE PUBLIC PRESS--JUNIUS'S LETTER--ATTICUS--A FOUL LIBEL--THE EARL OF BUTE DENOUNCED--ANOTHER APPEAL FOR THE QUEEN--THE STATE OF PUBLIC OPINION--THE APPROACHING TRIAL.

So soon as the _coup d'état_ was an accomplished fact, Colonel Keith, the British envoy, lost not a moment in acting on behalf of the sister of his monarch. Dark rumours were afloat that a family council had been held to decide the fate of the queen; and it was even said that proposals to execute her at once were entertained. Colonel Keith, under these circumstances, forced his way into the Christiansborg, and denounced war against Denmark if a hair of her head were touched. This done, he despatched a messenger forthwith to England, and immediately locked himself and his household up until the answer should arrive.

What the nature of Keith's despatch was it is impossible to tell till the Foreign Office shall give up its dead, by repealing the absurd regulation that no state papers may be inspected after the year 1760. For the present, therefore, I am only able to inform my readers of what the public journals of the day said, and that is naturally rather in the shape of surmise than fact.

As early as January 23, the _General Evening Post_ spread an uneasy feeling by the following portentous paragraph:--"It is affirmed by letters from the Continent that a royal princess is certainly detained in a tower inaccessible to every creature except such as are appointed to attend her, but that an absolute silence is imposed throughout the kingdom on this subject." On January 26, the journalist being unable to offer more precise information, and yet unwilling to let the subject drop, keeps it alive by a paragraph to the following effect:--

"So exceedingly cautious are foreign states when they marry a daughter of England not to let an English woman attend the princess into their territories, for fear of her having too much influence over the mind of her royal mistress, that when the Queen of Denmark was sent over to her illustrious consort, she had only one bed-chamber woman in her suite as far as Altona, and even this one was sent back on her arrival at that place, that the Danish ladies only might have the ear of her Majesty."

On January 29, just as the king was about to hold a levee, an express arrived from Copenhagen, bearing the news. It threw the royal family, we are told, into the profoundest affliction; his Majesty seemed deeply affected by the news; and the queen and the Princess of Brunswick were observed to shed tears. But there was another member of the royal family whom the news would afflict even more: the mother of Caroline Matilda, who, as we have seen, felt persuaded that her daughter had been guilty of gross indiscretion, and who, in the previous year, had attempted to turn her from a course which her own experience of court intrigues told her must end in ruin.

The Princess Dowager of Wales was at this time dangerously ill with a throat complaint, and it was therefore proposed to George III. that this new misfortune should be concealed from her. But the king answered, incautiously, "My mother _will_ know everything, and, therefore, it is better that I should break it to her by degrees." He therefore went to her directly, suddenly forbidding his levee just half an hour before it was going to begin, and thus was the first to publish the disgrace of his sister. Walpole, who is our authority for the above,[56] adds, in a strain of reflection unusual with him:--

"Such an accumulated succession of mortifications has rarely fallen on a royal family in so short a space. They seemed to have inherited the unpropitious star of the Stuarts, from whom they are descended, as well as their crown. The marriage of the Duke of Cumberland with Colonel Luttrell's sister, the dangerous illness of the Princess of Wales and the Duke of Gloucester, and the dishonour of the Queen of Denmark: all happening within three months."

We are told--though let us hope that it was only the floating gossip of the day--that the princess dowager, on receiving the fatal news from the Continent, prayed most fervently for her speedy dissolution; declaring that the world could not be more weary of her than she was of the world, and desiring her attendants never to mention the name of a "certain princess" in her presence.

For the next few days the newspapers necessarily contained only what information could be picked up at the coffee-houses. Thus we find that it was generally believed that the worst part of the news from Denmark was not yet published, and, therefore, all was suspense, doubt, and anxiety, among the constant visitors at St. James's. The politicians at the new Lloyd's Coffee-house very busily engaged in speculative bets upon a war with Denmark; but considerate people imagined that Lord North was much too wise to engage offensively against any power merely on account of a family _faux-pas_, especially when the conduct of the person to be supported was indefensible.

The natural inclination to think ill of one's neighbour was only heightened at this time through the profound secrecy maintained by the government. Still, it is gratifying to find some writers at this early period calling for the assistance of a fleet to vindicate, rather than the voice of the British nation to condemn, the Queen of Denmark; and further on in the same article Caroline Matilda is spoken of as the "Royal Innocent."

Early in February, a long letter appeared in the _General Evening Post_, calling attention to the whole affair in very powerful language. The writer, after urging the nation not to decide on _ex parte_ statements, proceeds to defend Caroline Matilda in the following warm terms:--

"Recollect the manner in which that lady was educated, and that, when delivered into the hands of her husband, she was in full possession of every virtue. All the graces were in her: she knew nothing but what was good. Can it then, with any degree of reason, be concluded that in so short a time the lady could forget every virtuous precept, and abandon herself to infamy? My dear countrymen, it cannot be; and until we have a certainty of guilt, believe it not, though an angel from Copenhagen should affirm it. It was but the other day we were told of certain regulations which had taken place, and are for the advantage of that kingdom, and which were wholly attributed to the counsel of that lady. Alas! there is too much reason to fear that her exalted character, justly acquired with the populace, has produced in those of rank--envy, hatred, confusion, and ruin."

The writer, who like most of his countrymen appears to have been in a state of blessed ignorance about the affairs of foreign courts, then bursts into a furious and quite irrelevant diatribe on poor Baron Schimmelmann, whom he supposes to be the prime minister of Denmark. After giving a concise account of that gentleman's chequered career, and displaying an amount of malice in raking up dirty things which makes one believe that C. P. owed Schimmelmann grudge, he vents his bile in the following words, which certainly contain some truth:--

"It is wickedly asserted that the monarch's (Christian VII.) illness is attributed to some medicines given him by his physician, &c. The truth is, that you ought rather to wonder that his Majesty is now alive, than that he is afflicted with nervous and paralytic disorders. My eyes were witness to the manner and excess of his living when he was at Altona. I could say a great deal, but it does not become me. I shall only say this one thing, which is an indisputable truth: that many who then saw his Majesty, concluded from his delicate constitution that it could not hold long, and execrated our baron for his introducing him to, and encouraging him in, the most destructive vices. Therefore, if any disorder affects the head of his Majesty, may it not be more justly attributed to such excess than to the queen, who was educated in the fear of God?"

The illness of the princess dowager prevented George III. from taking any decided action on behalf of his sister. On the morning of February 8 the princess departed this life. On the previous evening her physician felt her pulse, and told her it was more regular than it had been for some time; her Highness answered, "Yes, and I think I shall have a good night's rest." She then embraced the king, and he observed nothing particular in her except that she kissed him with greater warmth and affection than usual. The king afterwards retired to a private room with the physician, who told him that her Highness could not outlive the morning, which determined his Majesty on staying at Carlton House all night. He did not see his royal mother any more till she was dead, for she remained very quiet all the night, and gave no token of death, till a few minutes before she expired, when she laid her hand upon her heart and went off without a groan. His Majesty was then informed, and he came in and took his mother's hand, kissed it, and burst into tears; a short time after which he returned to St. James's.[57]

There is but little to add to the character of this princess than that communicated in the opening chapter. When she was gone to a state far superior to mortal praise or blame, where the lying voice of calumny and faction could not reach her, people began to discover that "never was a more amiable, a more innocent, or a more benevolent princess." It was publicly denied that she had interfered in the politics of the country, or influenced the king in affairs of state. She discharged, to the utmost of her power and out of her own income, the large private debts of her husband. Her charity was extensive; and it was stated that she gave away upwards of £10,000 a year, and that so secretly, that the recipients of her bounty would only learn who their benefactress was through the cessation of her charities. Hence it is not surprising that she made no will, for she had nothing to leave.

Though the Princess of Wales constantly read all the public papers till within a few weeks of her death, the unmerited abuse with which they teemed never excited in her the least emotion of anger or resentment; nor was she ever heard to speak disparagingly of any individual. She was steady in her friendships, and so indulgent a mistress to her servants, that she was ever anxious to give them as little trouble as possible. Her understanding was clear and solid; her temper even, serene, and placid, and her religion real and unaffected, which enabled her to meet death with a truly Christian resignation. To the very last minute of her life she was sensible and composed, and gave apparent signs of satisfaction at the truly filial concern which the royal pair displayed, and the great attention they paid her in her last extremity. A writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ sums up the character of the Princess of Wales so fairly, that I am tempted to extract the concluding passage:--

"In her royal highness we have a striking instance of the instability of human happiness. Many now alive can remember her the happiest of wives and mothers, and universally beloved, as our good queen now is. She was for many years the very idol of the people of England; and, without any blame on her part, she has been publicly and repeatedly traduced beyond all example. She has long been bereaved of the best of husbands: (?) has outlived several of her children, and has had the recent mortification of seeing one marry indiscreetly, another languishing under a dangerous illness, and a third a prisoner in a distant kingdom. Overwhelmed with these accumulated misfortunes, and struggling with bodily distempers, Heaven, as a reward for her pure and virtuous conduct in every relation in life, has graciously and seasonably delivered her from the sorrows of this mortal state to the mansions of endless felicity, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

One of the most unfortunate results of the death of the Princess of Wales in this crisis of affairs was, that the crafty Von der Osten had time to persuade the King of England that this affair was not one of those which ought to be treated by ministers as between nations; that it was personal; that his brother, the King of Denmark, would write to him in his own hand, and that his Britannic Majesty should reply in the same way. George III., who was so honest as to believe everybody, fell into the trap so artfully laid for him.

On February 28, Lord Suffolk, the foreign secretary, sent despatches to Colonel Keith, adding to them a personal letter, in which he expressed the king's satisfaction at the ability, spirit, and dignity the envoy had displayed, and enclosing the Order of the Bath as a reward. From Danish accounts I learn that George III. replied to Christian's letter, that what had happened grieved him deeply, but he hoped that justice would be observed, and every possible indulgence shown.

With this letter Sir R. M. Keith proceeded to demand a private audience of the King of Denmark, and a day being appointed for the purpose, the envoy, on entering the ante-chamber, was much surprised at seeing, instead of the king, some members of the council of state, who intimated to him that his Majesty, not being very well, had charged them to receive what the envoy had to communicate, and they would inform him of it. Sir R. Keith replied, that the orders he had received from his master were to speak to the king in person, and not to his ministers; and that he was not a little surprised that after his Danish Majesty had consented to give him the audience he requested, he should refer him to his ministers. He then added, that he should not fail to inform his royal master of what had occurred, and retired extremely dissatisfied. As he went, Sir Robert fired a parting shot, to the effect that if the Queen of Denmark was not treated with the respect due to her birth and rank, the king, his master, would not fail to resent it.

Keith, doubtless, informed George III. of the results of this interview, and opened his eyes as to the jugglery that had been practised. Consequently, subsequent despatches from England assumed a more earnest character, and, finally, even contained menaces. At the same time, however, George III. remained true to his word, and said that he would not interfere in the matter, so far as it affected the marriage of Christian VII. with his sister. Hence he consented to the arrest of the queen and her long imprisonment during the trial, but refused to sanction any further or life imprisonment of the accused princess.

There is but little to be learnt from the English papers as to the progress of the negociations. It would appear as if Baron Dieden, the Danish envoy at St. James's, was left without instructions for a time, as he shut himself up in his house till he received commands as to his future conduct. Perhaps fear had something to do in the matter, for Reverdil, who was then in London, states that an anonymous letter was sent the envoy, to the effect that he must answer personally for the safety of the queen. When Dieden finally made his appearance at court, George III. would not speak to him, and the minister took his revenge by standing out of the circle, and laughing impertinently at the king to the Prussian minister.[58]

In the absence of settled news, the gentry, who occupied themselves with writing letters to the papers, had a splendid time of it. The ball was opened by that three-decker Junius, who discharged a double-shotted battery into Lord North. After the usual denunciations of the minister, which the latter probably regarded with his usual pachydermatous indifference, Junius proceeds as follows:--

"An insignificant northern potentate is honoured by a matrimonial alliance with the King of England's sister. A confused rumour prevails that she has been false to his bed: the tale spreads, a particular man is pointed at as the object of her licentious affections. Our hopeful ministry, however, are quite silent: despatches, indeed, are sent off to Copenhagen, but the contents of those despatches are so profound a secret, that with me it almost amounts to a question, whether you yourself know anything of the matter."

After giving a far from flattering description of the remaining members of the cabinet, Junius adds an argument, which certainly is forcible:--

"In private life the honour of a sister is deemed an affair of infinite consequence to a brother. A man of sentiment is anxious to convince his friends and neighbours that the breath of slander has traduced her virtue: and he seizes with avidity every extenuating circumstance that can contribute to alleviate her offence or demonstrate her innocence, beyond the possibility of cavil.

"Is our pious Majesty cast in a different mould from one of his people? or is he taught to believe that the opinion of his subjects has no manner of relation to his own felicity? Are you, my lord, quite devoid of feeling? Have you no warm blood that flows round your heart, that gives your frame a thrilling soft sensation, and makes your bosom flow with affections ornamental to man as a social creation? For shame, my lord, however wrong you act, you must know better; you must be conscious that the people have a right to be informed of every transaction which concerns the welfare of the state. They are part of a mighty empire, which flourishes only as their happiness is promoted; they have a kind of claim in every person belonging to the royal lineage. How, then, can they possibly remain neuter, and see their princess imprisoned by a banditti of northern Vandals?"

After an historical survey of Denmark, not particularly pertinent, Junius informs us that:--

"There is a barbarous ferocity which still clings to the inhabitants of the north, and renders their government subject to perpetual convulsions; but the Danes, I fancy, will be found the only people in our times who have dared to proceed to extremities that alarm all Europe, nay, dared to imprison an English princess, without giving even the shadow of a public reason for their conduct."

After an allusion to the conduct of the Empress Catharine in justifying the murder of her husband, Junius concludes with one of his most impassioned declamations against the sluggish minister, who is so careless of British honour:--

"The present Machiavellian Dowager Julia may send the young queen's soul to Heaven in a night, and through the shameful remissness of you, Lord North, as prime minister of this unhappy country, the public may remain ignorant of every circumstance relative to the murder. Be not, however, deceived: the blood of our sovereign's sister shall not be suffered to cry in vain for vengeance: it _shall_ be heard; it _shall_ be revenged; and what is still more, it shall besprinkle Lord North, and thus affix a stigma on his forehead, which shall make him wander like another Cain, accursed through the world."[59]

This vigorous appeal for Caroline Matilda was followed shortly after by a temperate letter in the _Public Advertiser_, signed Q. Q. This writer has the merit of seeing further through a millstone than his fellows. He was of opinion that the Danish revolution, far from being general, was merely the effect of a court faction, and that a squadron of British ships sent to Copenhagen would "inspire the queen's friends with confidence and courage, and will check and dispirit those who are her opponents, so that she may either expect to have her conduct cleared up by a fair and impartial trial, or, if it is thought an indignity to submit to that, she may at once be restored to that rank and authority which I am well persuaded she never deserved to lose."

It must not be supposed, however, that Caroline Matilda's defenders were allowed to have it all their own way. A fellow, writing under the name of ATTICUS, befouled the columns of the _Public Advertiser_ with one of the most scandalous libels on an unoffending woman which ever appeared in those unhappy days, when liberty was confounded with licence of the press.

According to this worthy, the Earl of Bute advised the war with Denmark, and Lord Sandwich seconded him in the hope of increasing his income at the Admiralty. Lord North, "perplexed lest he may on the one hand be deserted by a perfidious master in the midst of the tempest, or, on the other hand, lose the favourite's influence, therefore, temporises, flatters, and procrastinates."

After defending the queen dowager from the charges brought against her and alleging the notorious intimacy of the queen and Struensee, Atticus draws the following inference:--

"I will refer the conclusion (of the intimacy) to those best acquainted with women, whether it ever so happens that they surrender power, confer honours, and resign up all reputation to any man who had not made a _deep impression_? I am a married man, have a very good kind of dame at my table, and am not at present disturbed with jealousy: but were I to see my wife fond of another man's company, solicitous to do him partial honours, and impatient for his increasing glory, happiness, and renown, and prefer his interest to mine, it would to me be a more certain proof of her criminality than is commonly produced in cases of divorce."

After a lengthened account of Struensee's elevation and fall, not more incorrect than the majority of the fables current at the time, Atticus takes up the common but generally successful radical trick of imputing motives to political opponents.

"The day was fixed, _a favourite fell_. Methinks I hear the Earl of Bute whisper to his poor affrighted soul, and every corner of his hiding-places murmur with these expressions: God bless us! a known and established favourite ruined in a single night, by a near neighbour--the frenzy may reach this country and I am undone. Englishmen, too, are haters of favourites and Scotchmen; these old, rascally, Whig families, whose power and virtue seem almost lost, may reunite. In the meantime I must do something--a lucky thought occurs to me: I'll fill the minds of the people with prejudices against those haughty Danes. Bradshaw and Dyson shall bribe the printers to suppress any contradictory reports; Englishmen are always ready to vindicate injured virtue at any expense. Therefore, nothing shall be heard _but the honour of the king's sister_. I know the queen-mother was ignorant of the matter till the deed was done; but I will have her represented as an intriguing old Brimstone. It will go down, because the late dowager here must have prejudiced them against all queen-mothers. By the ghost of Charles, I'll make war against those rascally burghers, which will completely answer my purpose. I will divert the ministers of the two people, weaken the two Protestant states, make room for my namesake, and restore favouritism."

Such were the arguments of a member of the peace-at-any-price-party in 1772. They certainly display a coarse cleverness befitting a demagogue, and doubtless represented the feelings of a considerable section of deluded Englishmen at the time. Let us hope that none of his readers, however, shared the sentiments expressed in the following odious passage:--

"Be assured, my dear countrymen, the queen's supposed inconstancy was in no part the cause of the late revolution in Denmark. Had she committed adultery in the streets, but preserved decency in matters of state, she might now be at liberty, and in that round of amusements. The patriots of Denmark do not make adultery an article of grievances; and if they did, she has been the betrothed of a sovereign prince; she is his lawful wife, subject to the laws of that country. Her brother made no settlement of exclusive power--either for her as a wife or a queen; at least, his pious nature must have forbidden the declared right of ----dom. I wish George III. had entertained the same ideas as did his grandfather, with respect to the slippery tricks of his family; who, in his letter to the Prince Ferdinand, near the close of the late war, concludes with these words: 'Let me advise you to be more careful of your person--your reputation is established, for though our family has produced many ----s, it never produced a poltroon.'"[60]

An anonymous writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ stepped forward at once to meet the doughty ATTICUS in the field, and it is to be regretted that his armour was not stronger. He pleads _in misericordiam_ for Caroline Matilda, appealing to her birth, education, and former behaviour, and concludes with the opinion that a squadron will be the best way of cutting the legal knot. Atticus speedily returned to the charge, but without his former vigour, except, perhaps, when he argues that persons who accept crowns must put up with the inconveniences connected with them. When George III. gave his sister to Christian VII. in marriage, both were aware that Caroline Matilda was to become obedient to the will of an almost unlimited monarch. "The event should teach them both the superior excellency of a limited monarchy and the inestimable value of its laws." Atticus winds up by saying, that if the vengeance and power of England were to be exerted against any prince who married into the British royal family, no matter what his wife's conduct might be, the princesses would soon go begging for husbands.

Such were the arguments employed by our grandfathers when they talked over the fate of the Queen of Denmark. I fear, though, that the tide gradually turned against her, and that this was, in a great measure, owing to the mystery kept up about the affair. Lord North, when pressed in his parliamentary intrenchments, contented himself with answering, "with his natural air of frankness," says Reverdil, who was in London at the time, "that unless expressly ordered to do so by the House, he would not reveal so delicate an affair; that time would discover everything and justify the ministry." Ninety years have since elapsed, but the justification has not been published. All we know for certain is, that an innocent woman's character was blackened by the unwise conduct of those to whom she had a natural right to look for protection. We know, too, that she was allowed to remain in prison for upwards of four months, awaiting the result of a trial which ought never to have taken place.

These considerations, however, should be deferred until I have given all the details connected with this extraordinary trial. In doing so, I shall, fortunately, be enabled to produce documents which have not hitherto been laid before the English public. Whether I shall be able to prove the perfect innocence of Caroline Matilda by their aid, it does not become me to say; that I must leave to the verdict of my readers. But one thing I can with certainty affirm: the treatment of the unfortunate Queen of Denmark was equally fiendish, cruel, and, in every respect, revolting, whether she were guilty or not. Not the slightest evidence could be brought against her: all the statements of the witnesses, which extend to matters rarely produced in a court of law (except, perhaps, in the case of Caroline of Brunswick), will prove themselves to be supposititious, or simple calumnies. It is for this reason that I attach such value to the evidence which has so recently been obtained from the secret archives of Denmark, and which enables me to lay the whole affair, for the first time in full, before the impartial judgment of the English reader.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 56: Walpole's "Journal of the Reign of George III."]

[Footnote 57: "Annual Register, 1772."]

[Footnote 58: Walpole's "Journal of the Reign of George III.," to which we are indebted for another anecdote. About a week after the account came, Count Maltzahn, the Prussian envoy, asked Mr. Dayrolles, with a sneer, "Qu'est devenu votre Reine de Danemarc?" Dayrolles replied, with spirit, "Apparement qu'elle est à Spandau avec votre Princesse de Prusse,"--who had been divorced for adultery.]

[Footnote 59: It is amusing to notice the transparent cloak employed by public writers even when bespattering their political foes the most fiercely. Thus Junius invariably addresses Lord N--, alludes to his M--y, and tells the premier, not that he shall be accursed, but a--d. It reminds me of the rule that only allows boxing matches in France with the gloves on, though the latter may be made of the thinnest silk.]

[Footnote 60: I have allowed this revolting passage to stand, as it exemplifies the language which a subject dared to use about the reigning family in those days. It is not surprising that a nation, which could tolerate language of this nature in the public press, should be ready to credit the Queen of Denmark's guilt.]