by the tranquillity of the people and the sailors, for a dull fermentation was going on, of which they could not be ignorant. Projects for leaving the country, and the results which might ensue from obstinately despising the danger, frequently occupied them. The cabinet minister even one day mentioned his disgust to Reverdil, who was in no respect his confidant, and the latter expressed his surprise that he put up with it. Struensee replied that he had often thought of retiring, and was only prevented by his devotion to the queen, who had ever been before his time a victim of the intrigues and malice of the favourites, and would be so after him. On another occasion, when he assured Reverdil that the king was the sole author of the reforms he had accomplished, he added, "I will not say otherwise under torture." Brandt, who frequently complained of his lot, said, with respect to some reproaches he received from the queen, "that alone is a hell." Brandt, who pretended to be seriously affected by an anonymous letter, confirmed his friend, however, in his resolution of remaining. "To what place could you go," he said to him, "where you would be prime minister and favourite of the king and queen?"

On other occasions, Brandt's incredible levity inspired him with jests as to the fate they had to fear. One day, after making some rather malicious remarks about the marshal of the court, he added: "After all, though, Biälke is the wisest of us, for he is taking advantage of the present time to settle down; he is making a wealthy marriage, and when we are in prison, I flatter myself that he will have pity on us, and send us every now and then some good soup." At another dinner, Brandt began talking about the proposition of September 29 of all flying together, and asked each of the guests what profession he would choose to gain a livelihood. The queen said that she would turn singer; and, indeed, she had a very agreeable voice. Struensee said that he would take a distant farm, and live on it as a philosopher. Brandt proposed to carry on, on his own account, his trade as manager of a theatre; "and you, my fair lady," he added to one of the guests, "cannot fail to succeed; with your form, you need only offer yourself as a model at an academy." The lady was certainly very beautiful, but hid with a great deal of art a defect in her shape, which she thought no one knew.[7]

Still, these anxieties which Brandt treated so gaily in company, affected him, nevertheless, in secret. "I wish all this would come to an end," he said one day to Falckenskjold, "for I have a foreboding that this government will speedily be overthrown."

"You will fare badly if it is," Falckenskjold answered.

"Oh!" said Brandt, with a flash of his old levity, "as far as that is concerned, I have studied law, and shall be able to answer for myself."[8]

About this time, Brandt received another anonymous letter in the same handwriting as the first:—

Well, sir, what I foretold you has happened, and you feel already the effects of your bad conduct. You have been faithless to your king, and you are now treated by others in the same manner. They use you as the monkey did the cat. You are deceived, and since they find they can do with you whatever they please, they laugh at you now, and it will not last long before they send you with contempt about your business, and lest you should tell tales, they may very likely imprison you for life, or send you by some means or the other into another world. This will be the due reward of your treachery, cowardice, and mean actions. I prognosticated all these things to you in my last letter of July 8: since that time my friendship for you, of which I have given you undeniable proof, has grown very cool. You do not deserve that it should continue, since you have been unable to follow good advice, and to do what your honour and your duty require of you. You have, on the contrary, chosen to persevere in your wicked course of life. If you at that time had followed my advice, you would have set the king at liberty, by saving him, and your praise would have been immortal. You would then have satisfied the duties of a good subject, a faithful servant, and an honest man: you would have gained the applause not only of your countrymen, but even of all Europe: they would all have united to procure you rewards according to your merit, and proportionate to the services done to the king and to your country. And certainly nobody would have been more deserving of rewards. But now you are detested through the whole kingdom, and are everywhere laughed at. Much was expected from your loyalty, your love for the king, and from a sense of your own duty; but people were mistaken. You are now punished. You are infamous among the whole nation, and your name is mentioned with horror. At court you are laughed at and entertained with vain hopes; an imaginary greatness is shown you. You are treated with the empty title of Count, which will remain a monument of your want of faith, your weakness, your meanness, and your reproachful conduct. In the meantime, Struensee insults the king and the whole of the royal family, not because they have offended him, but only to show his unlimited power. He arrogates all honours to himself; he makes himself master of the kingdom, the concerns of the government, and of the king, whom he dishonours before the whole world; he disposes of the revenues of the kingdom in a despotic manner, and against all order. This wretch dares to place himself on a level with his master by drawing up an order, by which the signature of his name acquires the same authority that, by the constitution of the kingdom, only belongs to the signature of the king. Your meanness and unwarrantable conduct have assisted to raise him so high; you could have prevented this, and, therefore, you will be answerable for the consequences. He commits crimes and assassinations, and he does it to retain the reins of government; but you contribute your share by obeying the orders of this Cromwell, who is ready to sacrifice the life of the king a thousand times over, if possible, so that he may obtain his wicked ends, and provide for his own security. Instead of acquainting the king with things which nobody knows better than you (for you are cunning enough when it concerns your own interest), you assist this Diedrich Slagheck[9] in arrogating to himself royal authority; in keeping his master under guardianship; in degrading him in the eyes of his subjects, that their love may cease, or at least decrease; and, lastly, as every one says, "in using him personally ill in the bargain."

You who can prevent all this and save the king from the hands of this good-for-nothing wretch, and yet are not willing to do it—you, sir, are accountable for it, and deserve greater punishment than the traitor himself; and believe me, as sure as that there is a God, you sooner or later shall pay for it with your head.

You see how preposterously business is managed; everything is overthrown and jumbled together in the strangest manner and blended with the highest inconsiderateness, of which there is no parallel instance to be met with in history. The most honest people who have served the