On March 1, Dr. Münter paid his first visit to Struensee's prison. When the count was informed of the clergyman's arrival, he inquired whether it was ordered, and on being answered in the affirmative, he endured the presence of the doctor. He welcomed him with a sour and gloomy countenance, in the attitude of a man who was prepared to receive many severe reproaches, and with a silence that showed contempt. But so soon as the clever Münter had told him that he was well aware of his obligations toward an unhappy man, and sincerely wished to make the visits he was ordered to pay him agreeable and useful, Struensee quitted his constrained attitude, and his countenance grew more serene. He offered the doctor his hand, and thanked him for the sympathy he took in his fate. The latter, in return, gave Struensee the assurance that he would say nothing that could offend him, and begged that if accidentally in the course of conversation a word might slip from him that appeared offensive, Struensee would overlook it. "Oh, you may say what you please," the prisoner answered. Münter repeated his assurance that he had no other design but that of being useful to his hearer, and for that reason requested his confidence, which he (Münter) would return with the most thankful friendship, even though Struensee in the beginning might take him for a weak and prejudiced man. Struensee was moved by this assurance, and Münter continued:-- "If you desire to receive comfort from me, who am your only friend on earth, do not cherish that unhappy thought of dying like a philosophical hero." To which the count replied:-- "In all my adversities, I have shown firmness of mind, and, agreeably to this character I hope I shall not die like a hypocrite." "Hypocrisy," Münter said, "in such moments would be even worse than an affected firmness, though even this would be a kind of hypocrisy. In case of death, do not trust to your old resolution and compare your former adversities, which were, perhaps, nothing but sickness and distress, with that fate which is now ready to fall on you. But, perhaps, you entertain some hopes of saving your life?" "No," Struensee said, "I flatter myself with no hopes at all." "But you do not see death near you," the doctor urged; "you do not know the time when you shall leave this world. Suppose I were to tell you that you were to die to-day or to-morrow, would not your courage fail you?" Struensee was silent, and Münter implored him to turn his entire attention to the important intent of their conversation, which was to prepare him for eternity. Then he added--