There was something about her exaggerated solicitude that had made the Queen, out of either rage or bewilderment, tell her to leave. But Fru von Plessen was the only one who cared. What alternative did she have—other than silence or the court’s rhetoric, which held that the Queen was merely an object? Fru von Plessen was the one who talked to her, advised her, worried about her, listened to her.
Fru von Plessen was a problem, but she was still the only real human being around. So after that one chance quarrel, they renewed their close companionship.
A seemingly insignificant event, an incident that occurred three weeks after the King’s sexual intercourse with the Queen, ended up causing a crisis.
This is what happened.
One morning Christian came to see the Queen as she was dressing. The Queen, with Fru von Plessen’s assistance, was in the midst of tying a silk scarf around her neck. The King then brushed it aside “with his face” and pressed his lips to her throat. Fru von Plessen turned away, looking as if this were a demonstration of the utmost indecency, and made a sign to the Queen; then she too displayed an angry face and observed that it was unseemly, and the silk scarf would be wrinkled.
Christian felt humiliated. The situation seemed childish and comical, hardly befitting a monarch. He had been chastised like a child. He hadn’t planned the gesture, but perhaps this loving act seemed far too premeditated to appear natural.
He had made himself ridiculous and was chastised like a child. He had tried to kiss her throat. It looked ridiculous. He was embarrassed. Fru von Plessen had triumphed. It was clear that the two women were acting in collusion.
Christian was enraged by what he perceived as an insult; he grabbed, or rather tore, the scarf away from the Queen, ripped it to shreds, and furiously took his leave.
That was the decisive incident. Once again: they were eighteen and fifteen, respectively.
The next day the King issued an edict proclaiming that chief lady-in-waiting Fru von Plessen had fallen out of favor; she was banished from the court and ordered to leave Copenhagen at once. She was given no opportunity to say farewell to the Queen.
She would end up taking residence in Celle.
The Queen learned of the banishment the day after her rash behavior.
She was then seized by a great rage, rushed in to the King, and showered her consort with furious abuse. Christian was once again seized by the nervousness that manifested itself in twitching gestures and tics. Stammering, he explained to her that he suspected Fru von Plessen of being an evil and perverse woman who harbored an unnatural love for the Queen. She screamed in reply that it was a lie, that as a matter of fact she didn’t care what was natural, unnatural, or perverse about her friend, especially considering the perverse state of the court, but that Fru von Plessen was the only one she could talk to. The only one who listened to her, and the only one who spoke to her as if she were a real human being.
It was a formidable performance. In a rage, the Queen walked out, having heaped abuse on Christian to the end. During the following weeks she greeted him only with contempt and revulsion.
She wept a great deal at this time. She refused to eat, merely wept. She said that she was particularly distressed at not being allowed to say farewell to her friend.
Yet they would meet again, much later, in Celle.
2.
Following this came the episode with Bottine Caterine. It began on May 4, 1767, late in the evening.
Her name was Anna Catharine Beuthaken; her stepfather was a shoemaker, hence her nickname, Bottine, the French word for “ankle boot.” She had once been an actress but “from this profession had slid onto the path of vice.”
She was a prostitute.
She was above average in height, sturdily built, and with very womanly curves. When Christian VII made her acquaintance she was twenty-four years old and “the most notorious person in all of Copenhagen.”
In paintings we see a beautiful face with a hint of Negroid features; her mother supposedly had Creole blood. She was strong-willed and, if crossed, was known to knock down and assault with astonishing force men whom no other woman had the courage to confront.
By this time the crisis between the royal couple was a common topic of conversation at court. The King seemed unnaturally eager to seek out solitude; he sank more and more into melancholy, sitting on a chair alone, staring at the wall and mumbling. He was seized with inexplicable fits of rage, he issued orders that were capricious, and he was gripped with suspicion even toward those closest to him.
He seemed increasingly preoccupied with conversing with his dog, to whom he kept muttering about “guilt” and “punishment.” But no one could have predicted the peculiar punishment he would mete out for his guilt.
It fell upon the one he loved most: Reverdil.
Not long after Fru von Plessen had been banished and the chill between the two young spouses had grown unbearable, Christian came over to his former Swiss teacher Reverdil during a theater performance, embraced him, and assured him with tears in his eyes that he loved and respected him, that Reverdil stood closest to his heart. Then Christian handed him a letter, which he asked him to read later that evening.
The letter said that Reverdil no longer had the King’s favor, that he must immediately leave the court and the King’s service, and that he would not be allowed to stay in Denmark.
It was incomprehensible. Reverdil returned to Switzerland at once.
The following day Christian paid a visit to Caroline Mathilde in her room and told her about it. He sat on a chair by the door, pressing his hands between his knees as if to conceal his twitches and spasms, and told her that he had banished Reverdil. Then he fell silent and waited. The Queen did not understand. She merely asked him what the reason might be.
Why had he done this to Reverdil?
He replied that this was the punishment. Punishment for what? she asked him.
He simply repeated that this was the punishment, and that the punishment was necessary.
She stared at him and said that he was mad.
They sat there for quite a while, in silence, on separate chairs in the Queen’s sitting room, and stared at each other. Then, after quite a long time, Christian stood up and left.
It was completely incomprehensible. Nothing changed between them. What the word “punishment” meant, she never understood. But the punishment changed nothing.
3.
Her name was Anna Catharine Beuthaken, she was called Bottine Caterine, and she was a prostitute. The instability and melancholy of the King was a fact. Enevold Brandt and a courtier by the name of Holck, known for his interest in the theater and Italian actresses, then decided that Bottine Caterine might be a solution to the King’s melancholy.
They resolved to introduce her as a surprise, without mentioning her to the King beforehand. So one evening Brandt escorted Bottine Caterine to the King’s suite.
She was dressed in men’s attire, her hair was long and henna-red, and the first thing Christian noticed was that she was a head taller than the two courtiers.
He thought she was very beautiful, but he fell into terrified muttering.
He knew at once what was about to take place.
His idea of the word “innocence” was not clear. He seems to have used it interchangeably with “purity” and with “invulnerability.”
In his view, apart from the experience he had acquired during the servicing of the Queen, he was at that time still innocent. At court there was a great deal of talk about this, about the “boy’s” inexperience—and the news had spread. At the masked balls the ladies, many of whom were either mistresses or coquettes expressly invited for the occasion, often spoke with the King and did not hesitate to let him know that they were at his disposal.
The general impression was that he appeared friendly, shy, but also terrified at the thought of carrying out in practice what they had suggested. There was a great deal of talk about his vice diminishing his strength, and many
grieved over this.
Now Bottine Caterine was escorted to his chambers. Now it was serious.
Brandt had brought along goblets of wine, and with jests he tried to lighten the mood, which was very strained. No one knew how the King would react to the suggestions that would now be put before him.
Caterine went over to the bed, calmly inspected it, and said kindly to the King:
“Come on, Your Majesty.”
She then walked slowly over to Christian and began to undress. She started with her jacket and let it fall to the floor, taking off garment after garment until at last she stood naked before His Majesty. She was a true redhead, with ample buttocks and large breasts; she had undressed slowly and matter-of-factly, and was now waiting for Christian, who merely stared at her.
“Christian?” she said in a friendly voice. “Don’t you want to, dear?”
The unexpected intimacy in the way she addressed him—using the word “dear”—shocked everyone, but no one said a word. Christian simply turned on his heel and at first headed for the door, but perhaps remembering the guards stationed outside, he turned again and walked to the window, which was hidden behind drapes; his wandering around the room was completely aimless. His hands now started up again the restless plucking movements that were so characteristic of him. He drummed his fingers against his stomach but said nothing.
The silence lasted a long time. Christian stared stubbornly at the window drapes.
Holck then said to Brandt:
“Show him.”
Brandt, who was seized with uncertainty, began reciting in an affected voice something that he had prepared but that now seemed misplaced in Caterine’s presence.
“Your Majesty, since the Queen, due to her young age, may perhaps be reluctant with regard to the holy sacrament offered by the royal member, there are several historical episodes worth recalling. Even the great Paracelsus writes in his …”
“Doesn’t he want to?” Caterine asked matter-of-factly.
Brandt went over to Caterine, embraced her, and with an almost shrill laugh began to caress her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
She had been looking the whole time at Christian standing at the window. Christian turned around and looked at Caterine with an expression that none of them could decipher.
“I will now demonstrate on this object what the Queen should do … if she is seized with terror at the royal member …”
“Terror?” Christian automatically repeated, as if he didn’t understand a word.
“Bend over,” Brandt said to Caterine.“I’m going to show him.”
But Caterine was suddenly and quite inexplicably seized with rage; she pulled away and practically spit at Brandt:
“Can’t you see that he’s scared??? Leave him alone!”
“Shut up,” roared Brandt.
Despite being a head shorter than her, he then tried to force her down on the bed and began taking off his clothes; but in a fury Caterine turned over, violently raised her knee, and struck Brandt so precisely and skillfully between his legs that he sank to the floor with a howl.
“You’re not going to demonstrate anything on any damned object,” Caterine told him savagely.
Brandt lay curled in a ball on the floor with hatred in his eyes, groping for support to pull himself up; and then they all heard Christian start to laugh, loudly, as if he were happy. After only a brief moment of surprised hesitation, Caterine joined in.
The two of them were the only ones laughing.
“Out!!!” Christian then ordered both of the favorites.
“Begone!!!”
In silence they left the room.
Bottine Caterine hesitated, but after a moment she started to get dressed. When her upper body was once again covered but she was still naked below, where her red hair was the most visible, she stood still, without speaking, and merely looked at Christian. At last she said to the King, in a voice that suddenly sounded quite shy and bore no resemblance to the voice she had just used toward Brandt:
“Damn it all,” she said.”You mustn’t be scared of me.”
Christian then said, with a hint of amazement in his voice:
“You … knocked him … to the ground.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Cleansed … cleansed … the temple.”
She gave him an inquisitive glance, then went over to him, stood quite close to him, and touched his cheek.
“The temple?” she asked.
He said nothing, explained nothing. He merely looked at her, and his body was still trembling. Then she said to him in a hushed voice:
“Dear, you shouldn’t put up with this shit, Your Majesty.”
He was not upset by her addressing him both as “dear” and “Your Majesty.” He just stared at her, but he was now calmer. The trembling in his hands gradually subsided, and he no longer seemed filled with terror.
“You mustn’t be scared of me,” she said. “You should be scared of those swine. They are swine. It’s good you told those damned swine to go. And forcefully.”
“Forcefully?”
She took his hand and cautiously led him to the bed, where they both sat down.
“You’re so delicate,” she said. “Like a little flower.”
He stared at her, as if with inexpressible amazement.
“A … flower???”
He began sobbing, cautiously, as if he were ashamed; but paying no mind, she slowly began to undress him.
He didn’t try to stop her.
She took off one garment after another. He didn’t stop her. His figure seemed so small, fragile, and thin next to her body, but he let it happen.
They lay down on the bed. She held his body in her arms for a long, long time, caressing it quietly, and at last he stopped sobbing. She covered both of them with an eiderdown coverlet. He fell asleep.
Toward morning they made love, very quietly, and when she left he was sleeping like a happy child.
4.
Two days later he went looking for Caterine, and he found her.
He put on a gray cloak, convinced he would not be recognized; he ignored the fact that two soldiers constantly followed him at a distance, even now.
He found her in Christianshavn.
He had awakened in the afternoon after his first night with Caterine, and he lay quietly in bed for a long time.
He could not recall what had happened. It seemed impossible to memorize. This role was new to him.
Perhaps it wasn’t a role.
He felt as if he were floating in warm water, as if he were a fetus floating in the womb, and knew that this lingering feeling came from her. The servicing of the Queen had left him with the feeling that he was unclean, since his terror had been so great. Now he was no longer “innocent,” but to his surprise this was not something that filled him with pride; no, it wasn‘t pride. Because he knew that innocence was something that everyone lost. But who was able to regain his innocence? That night he had regained his innocence. Now he was a fetus. Therefore he could be reborn, perhaps as a bird, perhaps as a horse, perhaps as a human being, and in that case as a peasant wandering through a field. He could be born free of guilt. He could rise up again from this womb. That was the beginning.
With Caterine he had regained the innocence he had lost with the Queen.
The moments when he imagined that the court was the whole world and nothing existed outside of it, those were the moments when he was filled with dread.
That’s when the dreams about Sergeant Mörl recurred.
Before he had the dog, any regular sleep had been impossible; when they gave him the dog, it was better. The dog slept in his bed, and he could practice his lines with the animal.
The dog would sleep while he repeated his lines until the terror disappeared.
It was worse outside the world of the court. He had always been afraid of Denmark. Denmark was what existed outside of his lines. Outside there were no lines to practice, an
d what was outside didn’t fit together with what was inside.
Outside it was so inconceivably filthy and bewildering, everybody seemed to be working and preoccupied, and rituals were not observed; he felt a strong admiration for what was outside and dreamed of fleeing there. In his letters and writings Monsieur Voltaire had told him about how things ought to be outside. Outside there was also something called goodness.
Outside existed the greatest goodness and the greatest evil, such as the execution of Sergeant Mörl. But no matter what it was like, it was impossible to learn by heart.
It was the breach of ritual that both enticed and frightened him.
Caterine was a paragon of goodness. A paragon because there was nothing like her and because her goodness included him and excluded everything else.
That was why he went looking for her. And that was why he found her.
5.
When he arrived she served him milk and rolls. It was inexplicable.
He drank the milk and ate a roll.
It was like a Holy Communion, he thought.
No, the court was not the whole world, but he thought that he had found paradise; it resided in a tiny room behind the bordello at Studiestræde 12.
That was where he found her.
There were no tapestries like at court. There was, however, a bed; and for a few rather painful moments it occurred to him what went on in that bed and who made use of it; this flickered past him like the drawings Holck had once shown him, which he borrowed and later used whenever he practiced his vice; the vice in which he touched his own member while he looked at the pictures. Why had Almighty God given him this vice? Was it a sign that he belonged to The Seven? And how could someone who was one of God’s chosen have a vice that was a worse sin than the fornication at court? The pictures flickered past him when he saw her bed, but he made himself invulnerable and they were gone.
He only practiced his vice whenever he grew restless and thought about guilt. The vice made him calm. He regarded the vice as a means given to him by Almighty God to calm himself. Now the pictures flickered past and he brushed them aside.
The Royal Physician's Visit Page 7
