CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.
1751-1760.
The early years of the Princess Matilda were passed at Carlton House
and Kew. After her husband's death the Princess-Dowager of Wales, as
she was called, resided for the most part in London at Carlton House.
She used Leicester House on state occasions, and kept it chiefly for
her two elder sons who lived there with their tutors. Carlton House
was a stately building fronting St. James's Park with an entrance in
Pall Mall. It was built by a Lord Carlton in the reign of Queen Anne,
and was sold in 1732 to Frederick Prince of Wales. The great feature
of Carlton House was its beautiful garden, which extended along the
Mall as far as Marlborough House, and was laid out on the same plan as
Pope's famous garden at Twickenham. There were smooth lawns, fine trees
and winding walks, and bowers, grottoes and statuary abounded. This
garden gave Carlton House a great advantage over Leicester House in the
matter of privacy, and was of benefit to the children.
Cliveden, near Maidenhead, and Park Place, Henley-on-Thames, two
country places, owned, or leased, by Frederick were given up, but the
Princess retained her favourite house at Kew, and sent her younger
children down there as much as possible. The greater part of Matilda's
childhood was spent there, and Kew and its gardens are more associated
with her memory than any other place in England. The Princess-Dowager
encouraged in all her children simplicity of living, love of fresh
air and healthy exercise. Each of the little princes and princesses
was allotted at Kew a small plot of ground wherein to dig and plant.
Gardening was Matilda's favourite amusement, and in one of the earliest
of her letters she writes to a girl friend:--
"Since you left Richmond I have much improved my little plot in our
garden at Kew, and have become quite proficient in my knowledge of
exotics. I often miss your company, not only for your lively chat, but
for your approbation of my horticultural embellishments.... You know we
[the royal children] have but a narrow circle of amusements, which we
can sometimes vary but never enlarge."[11]
[11] The authenticity of this letter is doubtful. It first appeared in
a work entitled _Memoirs of an Unfortunate Queen, interspersed with
letters written by Herself to several of her Illustrious Relatives
and Friends_, published 1776, soon after Matilda's death. Some of the
letters may be genuine, others are undoubtedly spurious.
The Princess was better educated than the majority of English ladies
of her time, many of whom could do little more than read and write
(but seldom could spell) with the addition of a few superficial
accomplishments. Matilda was a fair linguist, she could speak and
write French well, and had a smattering of Italian. Like her brothers
and sisters she committed to memory long passages from English
classics, and recited them with fluency and expression. She had a great
love of music, and played on the harpsichord, and sang in a sweet and
pleasing voice. She was thoroughly trained in "deportment," and danced
to perfection. She was a pretty, graceful girl, not awkward, even at
the most awkward age, and early gave promise of beauty. She rejoiced
in an affectionate, generous disposition and a bright and happy
temperament. She stood in awe of her mother, but she was devoted to her
brothers and sisters, especially to her eldest sister, Princess Augusta.
This Princess was the one who was suddenly hurried into the world on
a July night at St. James's Palace. She was fourteen years of age
when Matilda was born, and was a woman before her youngest sister
ceased to be a child, so that she stood to her in the place of friend
and counsellor. Augusta had not the beauty of Matilda, but she was
a comely maiden with regular features, well-shaped figure, pleasant
smile, and general animation. She was the best educated of the family.
This was largely due to her thirst for knowledge. She read widely,
and interested herself in the political and social questions of the
day to a degree unusual with princesses of her age. She was sharp and
quick-witted, and in her childhood precocious beyond her years. "La!
Sir Robert," she pertly exclaimed, when only seven years of age, to
Sir Robert Rich, whom she had mistaken for Sir Robert Walpole, "what
has become of your blue string and your big belly?" Sir "Blue-string"
was one of the Tory nicknames for Walpole, and in the caricatures
of the time his corpulence was an endless subject of ridicule. Her
parents, instead of reprimanding her, laughed at her pleasantries,
with the result that they often found her inconveniently frank and
troublesome. After Frederick's death her mother, who had no wish to
have a grown-up daughter too soon, kept her in the background as much
as possible, a treatment which the lively Augusta secretly resented.
Matilda's other sisters, the Princesses Elizabeth and Louisa Anne,
were nearer her in age and were much more tractable than Augusta.
They both suffered from ill-health. Her eldest brother George Prince
of Wales was a silent youth, shy and retiring, and not demonstrative
in any way. Edward, her second brother, afterwards Duke of York,
was livelier and was always a favourite with his sister. Her three
youngest brothers, William Henry, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, Henry
Frederick, later Duke of Cumberland, and Frederick William (who died at
the age of fifteen), were her chief playmates, for they were nearer her
in age. The children of Frederick Prince of Wales and Augusta had one
characteristic in common; clever or stupid, lively or dull, sickly or
strong in health, they were all affectionate and fond of one another.
Quarrels were rare, and the brothers and sisters united in loving and
spoiling the pet of the family, pretty, bright little Matilda.
For eighteen months after her husband's death the Princess-Dowager
of Wales remained in closest retirement. At the end of that time she
reappeared in public and attended court, where, by the King's command,
she received the same honours as had been paid to the late Queen
Caroline. She was also made guardian of her eldest son, in case of the
King's demise during the Prince of Wales' minority. William Duke of
Cumberland bitterly resented this appointment as a personal affront,
and declared to his friends that he now felt his own insignificance,
and wished the name of William could be blotted out of the English
annals. It increased his jealousy of his sister-in-law, and she, on her
part, made no secret of her inveterate dislike of him. Her children
were taught to regard their uncle as a monster because of his cruelties
at Culloden, and he complained to the Princess-Dowager of the "base and
villainous insinuations" which had poisoned their minds against him.
The Princess-Dowager of Wales rarely attended St. James's except on
ceremonial occasions. Nominally George II.'s court, for the last
twenty years of his reign, was presided over by the King's eldest
unmarried daughter, Princess Amelia, or Emily, a princess who, as
years went on, lost her good looks as well as her manners. She became
deaf and short-sighted, and was chiefly known for her sharp tongue
and her love of scandal and high play. She had no influence with the
King, and her unamiable characteristics made her unpopular with the
courtiers, who treated her as a person of no importance. In reality
the _dame regnante_ at St. James's was Madame de Walmoden, Countess
of Yarmouth, who had been the King's mistress at Hanover. He brought
her over to England the year after Queen Caroline's death, lodged her
in the palace, created her a peeress, and gave her a pension. In her
youth the Walmoden had been a great beauty, but as she advanced in
years she became exceedingly stout. Ministers, peers, politicians,
place-hunters of all kinds, even bishops and Church dignitaries, paid
their court to her. She accepted all this homage for what it was worth,
but though she now and then obtained a place for a favourite, she very
wisely abstained from meddling in English politics, which she did not
understand, and chiefly occupied herself in amassing wealth.
[Illustration: MADAME DE WALMODEN, COUNTESS OF YARMOUTH.
_From the Painting at Gülzow, by permission of Count Kielmansegg._]
Lady Yarmouth was the last instance of a mistress of the King of
England who received a peerage. Her title did not give her much
prestige, and her presence at court did not add to its lustre. During
her ten years' reign Queen Caroline had set an example of virtue and
decorum, which was not forgotten, and the presence of a recognised
mistress standing in her place was resented by many of the wives of the
high nobility. Some of these ladies abstained from going to St. James's
on principle, others, and these the more numerous, because the
assemblies there had become insufferably dull and tedious. If the court
had been conducted on the lavish scale which marked the reigns of the
Stuarts, if beauty, wit and brilliancy had met together, some slight
lapses from the strict path of virtue might have been overlooked. But a
court, which was at once vicious and dull, was impossible.
The Princess-Dowager of Wales, who prided herself on the propriety
of her conduct and the ordered regularity of her household, was the
most conspicuous absentee, and though she now and then attended St.
James's as in duty bound, she never took her daughters to court, but
declared that the society there would contaminate them. She rarely,
if ever, honoured the mansions of the nobility with a visit, and her
appearances in public were few and far between. She lived a life of
strict seclusion, which her children shared. During the ten years that
elapsed between Frederick's death and George III.'s accession to the
throne, the Princess-Dowager was little more than a name to the outer
world; the time had not come when the veil of privacy was to be rudely
torn from her domestic life, and the publicity from which she shrank
turned on her with its most pitiless glare.
The policy of the Princess was to keep in the background as much as
possible and devote herself wholly to the care and education of her
numerous family. She did her duty (or what she conceived to be her
duty) to her children to the utmost in her power, and in her stern,
undemonstrative way there is no doubt that she loved them. She ruled
her household with a rod of iron, her children feared and obeyed, but
it could hardly be said that they loved her. Despite her high sense of
duty, almsgiving and charity, the Princess-Dowager was not a lovable
woman. Her temperament was cold and austere, her religion was tinged
with puritanism, and her views were strict and narrow. She had many of
the virtues associated with the Roman matron. There was only one flaw
in the armour of the royal widow's reputation, and this her enemies
were quick to note. That flaw was her friendship with Lord Bute.
John, third Earl of Bute, had been a favourite of Frederick Prince of
Wales. He owed his introduction to the Prince to an accident which,
slight though it was, served to lay the foundations of his future
political career. He was watching a cricket match at Cliveden when
a heavy shower of rain came on. The Prince, who had been playing,
withdrew to a tent and proposed a game of whist until the weather
should clear. At first nobody could be found to take a fourth hand,
but presently one of the Prince's suite espied Bute and asked him
to complete the party. The Prince was so much pleased with his new
acquaintance that he invited him to Kew, and gave him a post in his
household. Bute soon improved his opportunities, and the Princess also
extended to him her confidence and friendship; perhaps she found in
his cold, proud temperament and narrow views some affinity with her
own character and beliefs. Frederick rather encouraged this friendship
than otherwise. He was very much attached to his excellent and virtuous
wife, but no doubt her serious way of looking at things wearied his
more frivolous nature occasionally. According to the scandalous gossip
of Horace Walpole: "Her simple husband when he took up the character
of the regent's gallantry had forced an air of intrigue even upon his
wife. When he affected to retire into gloomy _allées_ of Kew with Lady
Middlesex, he used to bid the Princess walk with Lord Bute. As soon
as the Prince was dead, they walked more and more, in honour of his
memory."[12]
[12] _Memoirs of George II._, vol. ii.; see also Wraxall's _Hist.
Memoirs_, vol. ii.
At the corrupt court of George II., where the correct conduct of the
Princess was resented as a tacit affront, the intimacy between the
Princess and Lord Bute was soon whispered into an intrigue. Once at a
fancy dress ball during the lifetime of Frederick when the Princess
was present, the beautiful Miss Chudleigh appeared as Iphigenia and so
lightly clad as to be almost in a state of nudity. The Princess threw a
shawl over the young lady's bosom, and sharply rebuked her for her bad
taste in appearing in so improper a guise. "_Altesse_," retorted Miss
Chudleigh, in no wise abashed, "_vous savez, chacun a son but_." The
impertinent witticism ran like wildfire round the court, and henceforth
the names of the Princess and Lord Bute were associated together in
a scandalous suggestion, which had nothing to warrant it at the time
beyond the fact that the Princess treated Lord Bute as an intimate
friend.
After Frederick's death the scandal grew, for the Princess was very
unpopular with the Walmoden and her circle, and they delighted to have
the chance of painting her as bad as themselves. Yet Bute was some
years older than the Princess. He was married to a beautiful wife, the
only daughter and heiress of Edward Wortley Montagu, by whom he had a
large family, and he was devoted to his wife and children. He was a man
of high principle, and lived a clean life in an age of uncleanness.
Lady Hervey writes of him: "He has always been a good husband, an
excellent father, a man of truth and sentiments above the common run
of men". Bute was not a great man, but his abilities were above the
average, and he possessed considerable force of character. He acquired
complete ascendency in the household of the Princess-Dowager, and
exercised unbounded influence over the young Prince of Wales. Princess
Augusta and Prince Edward disliked him, and secretly resented his
presence and his interference in family matters. The other children
were too young to understand, but Lord Bute was a factor which made
itself felt in the daily life of them all, and not a welcome one. Life
had become appreciably duller with the royal children since their
father's death. Gone were the little plays and masquerades, the singers
and dancers. Gone were the picnics and the children's parties. Even
the cards were stopped, and the utmost the Princess-Dowager would
allow was a modest game of comet. The children suspected Lord Bute of
aiding and abetting their mother in her Spartan treatment of them, and
disliked him accordingly.
The Princess-Dowager had need of a friend and counsellor, whether Lord
Bute was the wisest choice she could have made or not. She was quite
alone in the world, and had to fight against many intrigues. She was
not a woman to make friendships quickly, and she disliked the society
of her own sex. Thus it came about that in the secluded life she led,
except for the members of her household, two persons only were admitted
to Carlton House and Kew. One was Lord Bute, the other Bubb Dodington.
Bubb Dodington, whose diary we have quoted before, was a wealthy
_parvenu_ whose ambition in life was to become peer. Walpole had
refused him his coveted desire, and he therefore attached himself to
Frederick Prince of Wales, who borrowed money from him, and invented a
post in his household for his benefit. As far as it was possible for
Dodington to be attached to any one, he seems to have been attached to
his "Master," as he calls him. After Frederick's death, when, to use
his own phrase, "there was little prospect of his doing any good at
Leicester House," he again courted the favour of the government. But he
retained a sentimental attachment to his master's widow, or (for he was
a born intriguer) he wished to keep in touch with the young Prince of
Wales. In either case he was careful not to break off his friendship
with the Princess-Dowager, and often waited upon her at Carlton House.
The Princess, though she did not wholly trust him, clung to him as
a friend of her husband's. He was useful as a link with the outer
world, he could retail to her all the political gossip of the day, and
she, in turn, could make him the medium of her views, for she knew
what she told him in apparent confidence would be retailed to all the
town before the day was over. Dodington was an inveterate gossip, and
his vanity was too much flattered by being made the confidant of the
Princess-Dowager for him to conceal the fact. Moreover, he was wealthy,
and a shrewd man of business. The Princess sorely needed advice in
money matters, for her dower was only £50,000 a year, and out of that
sum she had to keep up Leicester House, Carlton House and Kew, educate
and maintain her numerous family, and to pay off by instalments her
husband's debts--a task which she voluntarily took upon herself, though
it crippled her financially for years. She did all so well that her
economy was a triumph of management.
From Dodington's diary we get glimpses of the domestic life of the
Princess-Dowager and her children after her husband's death. For
instance, he writes: "The Princess sent for me to attend her between
eight and nine o'clock. I went to Leicester House expecting a small
company, or little musick, but found nobody but her Royal Highness.
She made me draw a stool and sit by the fireside. Soon after came in
the Prince of Wales, and Prince Edward, and then the Lady Augusta, all
in an undress, and took their stools and sat round the fire with us. We
continued talking of familiar occurrences till between ten and eleven,
with the ease and unreservedness and unconstraint as if one had dropped
into a sister's house that had a family to pass the evening. It is much
to be wished that the Prince conversed familiarly with more people of a
certain knowledge of the world."[13]
[13] Dodington's _Diary_, Nov. 17, 1753, edition 1784.
This last point Dodington ventured to press upon the Princess more
than once, for it was a matter of general complaint that she kept
her children so strictly and so secluded from the world. They had
no companions or playmates of their own age besides themselves, for
the Princess declared that "the young people of quality were so
ill-educated and so very vicious that they frightened her.... Such was
the universal profligacy ... such the character and conduct of the
young people of distinction that she was really afraid to have them
near her children. She should be even in more pain for her daughters
than her sons, for the behaviour of the women was indecent, low, and
much against their own interests by making themselves so cheap."[14]
[14] Dodington's _Diary_, edition 1784.
We have dwelt thus on Augusta Princess of Wales not only because she
was the mother of Princess Matilda, but because so little is known of
her. The scandalous tales of Whig pamphleteers, and the ill-natured
gossip of her arch-maligner Horace Walpole cannot be accepted without
considerable reserve. No adequate memoir has ever been written of this
Princess. Yet she was the mother of a king whose reign was one of the
longest and most eventful in English history, and the training she gave
her eldest son moulded his character, formed his views and influenced
his policy. It influenced also, though in a lesser degree, the life of
her youngest daughter. Matilda inherited certain qualities from her
father, but in her early education and environment she owed everything
to her mother. To the strict seclusion in which she was brought up
by this stern mother, who won her children's respect but never their
confidence, and to her utter ignorance of the world and its temptations
(more particularly those likely to assail one destined to occupy an
exalted position), may be traced to some extent the mistakes of her
later years.
There were breaks in the children's circle at Carlton House and Kew.
Prince Frederick William died in 1765 at the age of fifteen, and
Princess Elizabeth in 1759 at the age of nineteen. Of the first nothing
is recorded, of the latter Horace Walpole quaintly writes: "We have
lost another princess, Lady Elizabeth. She died of an inflammation
in her bowels in two days. Her figure was so very unfortunate, that
it would have been difficult for her to be happy, but her parts and
application were extraordinary. I saw her act in _Cato_ at eight years
old when she could not stand alone, but was forced to lean against the
side scene. She had been so unhealthy, that at that age she had not
been taught to read, but had learned the part of _Lucia_ by hearing the
others studying their parts. She went to her father and mother, and
begged she might act; they put her off as gently as they could; she
desired leave to repeat her part, and, when she did, it was with so
much sense that there was no denying her."[15]
[15] Walpole's _Letters_, vol. iii., edition 1857.
The following year a life of much greater importance in the royal
family came to a close. George II. died at Kensington Palace on October
25, 1760, in the seventy-seventh year of his age, under circumstances
which have always been surrounded by a certain amount of mystery. The
version generally received is as follows: The King rose in the morning
at his usual hour, drank his chocolate, and retired to an adjoining
apartment. Presently his German valet heard a groan and the sound of a
heavy fall; he rushed into the room and found the King lying insensible
on the floor with the blood trickling from his forehead, where he had
struck himself against a bureau in falling. The valet ran to Lady
Yarmouth, but the mistress had some sense of the fitness of things, and
desired that the Princess Amelia should be sent for. She arrived to
find her father quite dead. His death was due to heart disease and was
instantaneous.
George II. was buried in Henry VII.'s Chapel, Westminster Abbey. His
last wishes were fulfilled to the letter. He had desired that one
of the sides of Queen Caroline's coffin (who had predeceased him by
twenty-three years) should be removed and the corresponding side of his
own coffin should be taken away, so that his body might lie side by
side with hers, and in death they should not be divided. This touching
injunction was piously carried out by command of his grandson, who now
succeeded him as King George III.