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their immediate arrest. Christian however at first, whether from affection for the Count, or from that obstinacy which is

the natural consequence of imbecility,

steadily refused. The Queen Dowager and Prince Frederic were then called in to enforce the requisition, and at last, by means of absolute threats, they obtained his reluctant signature. Not a moment was lost: Koller Banner made his way instantly to the chamber of Struensee, forced open the door, and found him asleep in his bed. The Count made no resistance to the order, but suffered himself to be quietly conveyed in a coach to the Citadel. Count Brandt, having made some shew of resistance, was at last forced to surrender himself, and was lodged in the same prison; their adherents also shared a similar fate. Early the next morning, the Queen was hurried away to Cronsburg, a fortress about twenty-four miles from Copenhagen, in which she was for some time confined. It is an extraordinary fact, that had Struensee gone to his apartments before the ball, he would there have found Count Rantzau, who was prepared to acquaint him with the whole conspiracy, which would have enabled him not only to have extricated himself from the danger by which he was surrounded, but to have revenged himself on its authors; circumstances however were otherwise ordered; contrary to his usual custom he did not go to his apartments, but having been detained until very late by business, he went straight to the ball, where the conspirators, who had discovered Count Rantzau's treacherous design, prevented their meeting.

"After Count Struensee had been in close confinement for nearly six weeks, the Government of the country well knowing the fate which must ultimately await him, and desirous to afford him an opportunity of changing his infidel opinions before he should be called out of the world, appointed Dr. Munter, the Minister of a German Church, in Copenhagen, to visit him in prison, and to administer such spiritual advice and consolation as might best be adapted to the Count's unhappy situation." P. vi.

The best account of these transactions is to be found in Wraxall's Memoirs of the Courts of Berlin, &c.; that which is given in the Annual Register of 1772, in some points is not quite correct. There is an excellent account of his political life in a small volume, entitled An authentic Elucidation of the Histories of Counts StruEnsee and Brandt.

The first conference details the reception which Munter obtained from the Count. The description of it bears strong marks of nature, and is very interesting.

I

"When he was told I was there, and wished to speak to him, he inquired whether I came by command? Being answered in the affirmative, he complied. He received me with a sour and gloomy countenance, in the attitude of a man who was prepared to receive many severe reproaches, with a silence that showed contempt. We were alone, and I was greatly moved, beholding the misery of a man who, but a few weeks ago, was the first and the most powerful of all the King's subjects. could neither hide my feelings, nor would I. Good Count, said I, you see I come with a heart that is sensibly affected for you: I know and feel the regard that is due to an unhappy man, whom God, I am sure, never intended to be born for such a visits, which I am ordered to pay you, misfortune. I sincerely wish to make my agreeable and useful.-Here he quitted his affected attitude, his countenance grew more serene, he gave me his hand, and thanked me for the share I took in his fate. Our conversation, continued I, will be now and then disagreeable both to you and me; but I profess most solemnly, that I shall tell you even these melancholy truths, which I have to communicate, without severity to you, but not without pain to myself. I know I have no right to give 'you any unnecessary uneasiness, and you may depend upon my sincerity. Should it happen that accidentally in our conversa. tion a word should slip from me which per haps may appear offensive, I declare be

forehand that it never was said with such a design, and I beg that in such instances you will overlook my precipitation. With an air and a look that appeared to me not very favourable, he replied, "Oh! you may say what you please.'

"I shall certainly, good Count, say nothing but what my great desire to contribute towards your future happiness, as much as lies in my power, shall oblige me to. I wish to raise your attention to a serious consideration of your moral state, and how you stand in regard to God. You do not know how your fate in this world may be decided, and Christianity, which I teach and believe, makes it my duty earnestly to wish for your everlasting happiness. Consider my visits and my conversation only in this view, and I hope you will not disapprove of them. I had several

reasons to decline the King's order which brings me to you: but the hope of comforting you in your misfortunes, and of advising you to avoid greater ones, was too important for me. Do not charge me withi views of a meaner sort. I come not for my own sake, but only with an intent of being useful to you. He then confessed twice that he was fully convinced I did it for his own advantage.

"If you are convinced of this, continued I with emotion, grant me then that confidence, which you cannot refuse a man, who is anxious for your welfare. I shall return it with the most thankful friendship, although you in the beginning should take me for a weak and prejudiced man. I shall not be tired in this friendship, but endeavour to make it useful to you, since I am your only friend upon earth, and since you certainly will call upon your only friend for comfort. Here he stared at me, as I think, with tears in his eyes, . and pressed me by the hand.

how do you think your heart would stand affected? He answered nothing. You see by this that the intent of our conversation is of great importance to you, and deserves all your attention. I aim at nothing less, than to prepare you for eternity, that it may be a happy one. But I must expect that we are not both of the same opinion, in regard to the state of man after death. Yet, though you might have persuaded yourself that there is no life to come, and consequently neither rewards nor punishments, I cannot help thinking that there never was a time, when you were fully convinced of it. Your inward feelings have frequently contradicted you. The thought of eternity frightened you, though unfortunately you had heart enough to stifle it in its birth.-However, it will be always out of your power, to prove that there is no eternity.

"He heard me with attention, but he would not own that he ever had any inward impressions of immortality, or had been afraid of it. Perhaps he might have been-but he did not recollect it. He owned that the thought, that he should soon entirely cease to be, was disagreeable to him; it frightened him, he wished to live, even if it were with less happiness than he now enjoyed in his prison. But, he added, he did not find the thought of total annihilation so terrible as he had found it was to many, who entertained the same sentiments with him.

"I found him moved, and endeavoured to make use of this advantageous moment. If you wish to receive that comfort, said I, which, in my opinion, I can promise you as the only true one, do not cherish that unhappy thought of dying like a philosophical hero; for I doubt whether you will be able to keep it up to the end. I am afraid your courage will leave you at last, though perhaps you may force yourself to show it outwardly. Firmness and tranquillity of mind, on the near approach "I continued: You cannot deny the posof death, is certainly the effect only of a sibility of a future life, for there is at least good conscience. In all my adversities,' as much probability for it as there is answered he, 'I have shewn firmness of against it. I believe I could evince from mind, and agreeably to this character, I mere reason, that eternity is to the highest hope I shall die not like an hypocrite.' degree probable, and that this degree of. Hypocrisy, said I, in such moments, would probability in such cases amounts almost be still worse than an affected firmness, to certainty. But suppose it was only though even this is a kind of hypocrisy. probable, which you must agree to, it is In case of death, do not trust to your even then a matter of great importance former resolution, and do not compare to you, for you to know what may perIn case your former adversities, which were perhaps happen to you hereafter. haps nothing but sickness and distress, with that fate which is now ready to fall upon you. But perhaps you entertain some hopes of saving your life?—No! said he, I flatter myself with no hopes at all.' But you do not see death near you, said I; you do not know the time when you shall leave this world? Perhaps it is at some months distance, But, (here I took him by the hand) my dear Count, suppose I was ordered to tell you that you were to die to-day or to-morrow, would not your courage fail? 'I do not know,' said he. But, continued I, if your courage should leave you, and it was then too late to look out for comfort and hope, REMEMBRANCER, No. 69.

you had to fear an unhappy life, you should prepare yourself against it, or make it at least tolerable.

"He agreed to this, but added, 'You will hardly make me believe that there is a future life, and though you perhaps may convince my understanding by reasons which I cannot overthrow, my heart however will not yield to the conviction. My opinion, which is opposite to your's, is strongly woven into my sentiments; I have so many arguments in favour of it; I bave made so

*This is admirably enlarged upon in Butler's Analogy, vol. i. p. 1.” 3 Z

many observations from anatomy and physic, which confirm it, that I think it will be impossible for me to renounce my principles. This however I promise, that I will not wilfully oppose your endeavours to enlighten me, but rather wish, as far as it lies in my power, to concur with you. I will not dissemble, but honestly tell you of what I am convinced, and what not. I will deal with you openly; this is my character, and my friends can bear witness to it.' In our inquiries, I desired him to guard against his careless way of thinking, to which, in my opinion, he had been hitherto addicted, and which had thrown him into this depth of misery. He answered:

"I do not deny my having lived inconsiderately in the world, and I feel now the consequences of it.'

"I trust in your promise, added I, that you will deal with me honestly. If you do not, you will impose upon me, though perhaps but for a few days. But you certainly cannot deceive the Supreme Being, and your own conscience. It would give me the highest pleasure if my intentions should succeed. But besides the assist

ance of God, you must do all the rest your self. I can only guide you, and it is your own interest to mind your welfare, and you are obliged to employ all the time which is left you upon this business."

P. 3.

Dr. Munter then proceeds to obtain from him a statement of his system of religion-from which we find that he is a disciple of materialism, considering man as a single substance or a mere machine-inferring from thence that there was no morality in actions further than as they affected society, and consequently, that there was no such thing as punishment after this life. Here we cannot but observe, by the way, how the infidel contradicts himself, while he denies the doctrine of future punishments; for at the very moment when he is disclaiming this doctrine, he confesses that man is "punished in this world for his transgressions," and that he was not " happy himself" during the time of his greatest prosperity-thus effectually asserting the prevalence of that fact which revelation only carries on to its perfection by extending it to a future state.

At the conclusion of this conference, Munter, instead of directly obviating these errors, endeavours to make an impression on his heart by informing him of a fact which was calculated to awaken a feeling of remorse.

"I had observed that he really was very uneasy about some of his actions, and I thought proper to increase his uneasiness. I suppose my readers know how much he

was to be blamed for his conduct towards Count Bernstorf*. I acquainted him, therefore, upon taking my leave of him, with his death. He called out with an emotion of heart: "What! is he dead?' and seemed to shudder. Yes, said I, he is, His wisdom, religion, and piety, have preserved him the character of a great man to the last; and it is generally believed, that the grief of his last years had hastened his death. When I spoke this, I looked at him with an air which he seemed to understand, for he blushed.” P. 12.

The same impression he renews at the next conference, by reminding him of the deep affliction which he had caused his parents, and how much it was his duty "to procure them that only comfort which was left them, not to remain in anxiety about his future state." He appears already to have succeeded partly in this respect: though he had not

been able to convince his understanding by arguments respecting the existence of the soul.

In the third conference, Munter finds him more disposed to receive the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, by the perusal of Jerusalem's Meditations (a book for which Mr. Rennell substitutes Pascal's Thoughts). Still the Count perseveres in his system of materialism. He cannot, however, but acknowledge, when pressed with the fact, that our organs are only instruments, which imply an agent to

"Count Bernstorf was minister of State in Denmark since the year 1750. Struensee got this great and beloved minister dismissed, by a letter of the king's, dated September the 15th, 1770, with a pension of 6000 crowns; he retired to Hamburgh, where he died the 18th of February, 1772. T."

make use of them (a fact strikingly illustrated by Bishop Butler in his Analogy); but the shame of sa. crificing his own opinion, is still an obstacle to his conviction of the Munter, very judiciously, still has recourse to his heart, as the means of overcoming the difficulty.

truth.

"He was sensible of this, but it seemed to be a hard matter for him to own he was in the wrong. Nevertheless, it was necessary he should make this confession before I could proceed any farther. I undertook therefore to prove, that the manner in which his opinion had taken its origin, and had interested his heart so much, tended neither to his credit nor to his advantage. I looked upon this as the best means to expel one shame by another. He interrupted me very seldom during the time I was speaking, but heard with much attention, and owned that I had exactly pointed ont the way which had led him to his opinion. After a short pause on both sides, during which he seemed to be in a deep meditation, he called out: Oh! I hope now, and wish for immortality.' I guessed directly that the reading of Jerusalem had brought him so far, and he soon afterwards said himself' It is impossible not to be P. 17. brought over by that book." "

The doctrine of a future life being now conceded, the next object of attention was, altogether to remove that false ease, by which the Count had hitherto been supported, by rectifying his notions of morality. His acknowledgment of a future life had already prepared the way for enlightening him on this head; for when Munter was proceeding to shew the insufficiency of even his own standard of morality, the good of society, he unexpectedly an swered, pointing at the "Meditations" which he had read, that he now found it "by far better and surer to derive the motives of our actions from God, and to consider Him as observing them." The heart however is still Munter's point d'appui, and he is not satisfied until he has fully established his influence there.

"In the mean time, I begged of the Count to reflect how immoral his actions had been, even according to his former principles of morality. I had now disco

vered that side where the wounds of his conscience smarted most. He was not by far so much grieved at thinking that he had offended God, and made himself mise

rable, as that he had ruined his friends

with him. This sensation of his I laid

hold on, and endeavoured to support and to increase it. I hoped his pain might by degrees become more universal, and extend itself over his other crimes.

"I had scarcely began to touch him on this side, when he burst into tears, and owned that he found himself in this respect very culpable, and was absolutely at a loss to say any thing in his defence.

"Suppose then, continued I, you had to reproach yourself only with being the cause of all the misfortunes your friends now labour under, it must even then be very difficult or rather impossible to account for it before God.

"I acknowledge this,' said he,' and therefore shall say nothing to excuse myself before God, and I hope he will not demand this of me. I trust in my repentance and his mercy. Do not you think God will forgive me on account of this philosophical repentance ?'

"According to my notions of repentance, I can give you no hopes. I know but one way to receive God's pardon, and this is not by a philosophical but by a Christian repentance. I cannot yet pro

"This view of Munter is quite correct, and worthy of attention. All attempts to eradicate confirmed infidelity by abstract argument alone will be fruitless. A sceptic has seldom any objection

to enter into discussions respecting the nature, the immateriality, the immortality, of the soul, or such sort of subjects, as they give him ample scope for the display of his sophistry and ingenuity; and even if by an able opponent he should be utterly defeated, he is still as far removed from conviction as ever. His pride, the very enemy whom it is our object to subdue, is flattered and increased by the contest. If infidelity proceeds ultimately from corruption of the heart, the heart must be the object of our attack, otherwise the understanding, influenced as it always is in such cases by the passions, will never have free

play, nor come to an unbiassed determi

He

nation. Some good feeling, which yet remains, must be awakened and brought into action. Such was the course pursued by Munter in the case before us. touched the heart of Struensee upon one of the few good points which yet remained his affection for his friends-and we see the beneficial result."

duce the reasons why I am obliged to think so; but if you only reflect on God's mercy, in which you trust, you will find that it is this very mercy which makes it necessary for him to be just, and to shew his aversion to moral evil. Such mercy as that of God, which cannot degenerate into weakness, must, no doubt, be very terrible to him who has offended against it. I entreat you not to put a blind and illfounded confidence in it.'-Perhaps I pro

nounced this with a visible emotion of

heart, for he interrupted me, saying, 'Your humanity must be very great, since your patience is not tired.'

"I certainly shall not be tired, but I am uneasy and in pain about you.'

"You must not be so much concerned for me. What would you do if I was so unhappy as to remain unconvinced?'

"It would grieve me unspeakably. I should wish to conceive good hopes of you, but I fear without reason. Pray do what ¡ies in your power, God will bless your endeavours. I hope you will even yet, upon good grounds, think yourself pardoned by God, and be able to die with comfort and a fair prospect into eternity.' Here he called out, with a deep-fetched sigh: 'May God grant it!'

"He added, "You wish, and I believe from good reasons, that I might become a Christian.'

"To be sure, (replied I,) I wish it very much; but you know favours are not forced upon any body; and it is natural for you to look out for the greatest that can be bestowed upon you. Learn first to feel how dangerous your condition is, and your own wants and misery will then compel you to search for God's mercy, where it is only to be found." P. 19.

the

Here Struensee starts two objections against Christianity-the want of universality in its diffusion, and the ill conduct of its professors. These are, of course, easily answered by Munter. With respect to the last, there is an excellent observation added: "that if there was but one Christian only upon whole earth, whose life did honour to his profession, it would be a sufficient reason for every one that knew him, to examine the religion of this only Christian, and to adopt it when he found it was well ground ed." On Struensee's persisting in the difficulty of satisfying his many doubts, besides those which he had

mentioned, Munter comforts him with the assurance, that his doubts would lessen as he made progress in Christianity; and leaves him with an exhortation to pray to God to enlighten his mind.

The next conference resumes the consideration of the morality of actions, as founded on the dictates of conscience; shewing, in answer the moral sense is the natural inforto the objections of the Count, that mant of the will of God, as existing universally in men, previously to all experience, custom, or education. Struensee now shews some uneasiness at his former actions.

"After some silence on both sides, and amidst his tears, he looked at me with an air that betrayed both anxiety and confidence, and said, If my tears come only out of the right source !'

"Good Count, said I, I suspect the reason why you cry. It is certainly the misfortune which you have thrown your friends into. This is your tender side, which pains, even when it is but slightly touched. Examine yourself, whether it is but personal friendship, and the remembrance of mutual enjoyed pleasures, and regret for having lost the hope of their continuation—or, whether it is the consciousness that you have offended God, religion and virtue, in the persons of your unfortunate friends.

"He considered a while, and at last called out: Oh! it is extremely difficult, to come to any certainty in this point!"

"Not long after, he added: 'I fear it is now too late to beg for God's mercy; and perhaps I do it in my present situation out of necessity!'

"I told him upon this, that though he had reason to reproach himself very much, that he had spent his whole life without thinking of God, or endeavouring to make him his friend; yet there was no distinetion betwixt those that came early, and those that came late *. It was only the sincerity with which we seek for God's mercy.

"He added, 'Perhaps I do it out of complaisance to you.' To which I replied,

"If this be spoken (as it probably was,) of acceptance and pardon, the doctrine is Scriptural and true; but if it be spoken of glorification and reward, it is liable to the strongest objections."

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