The Princess-Dowager was unmoved by the popular clamour, and her influence over the young King remained unshaken; indeed it was rather strengthened, for his sense of chivalry was roused by the coarse insults heaped upon his mother. Lord Bute continued to pay his visits to Carlton House as before, the only difference made was that, to avoid the insults of the mob, his visits were paid less openly. The chair of one of the Princess’s maids of honour was often sent of an evening to Bute’s house in South Audley Street, and he was conveyed in it, with the curtains close drawn, to Carlton House, and admitted by a side entrance to the Princess’s presence. These precautions, though natural enough under the circumstances, were unwise, for before long the stealthy visits leaked out, and the worst construction was placed upon them.

In the first year of the King’s reign the supremacy of the Princess-Dowager was threatened by an attachment the monarch had formed for the beautiful Lady Sarah Lennox, daughter of the second Duke of Richmond. But the house of Lennox was a great Whig house, and its members were ambitious and aspiring, therefore the Princess-Dowager and Bute determined to prevent the marriage. That they succeeded is a matter of history. Lady Sarah’s hopes came to an end with the announcement of the King’s betrothal to Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The announcement was not popular, for the nation was weary of royal alliances with the petty courts of Germany. But the Princess-Dowager had made confidential inquiries. She was told that Charlotte, who was very young, was dutiful and obedient, and no doubt thought that she would prove a cipher in her hands. In this the Princess-Dowager was sadly mistaken. Lady Sarah Lennox, or an earlier candidate for the honour, a Princess of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel, would have been pliable in comparison with Charlotte of Mecklenburg, who, on her arrival, showed herself to be a shrewd, self-possessed young woman, with a tart tongue, and a full sense of the importance of her position. Charlotte soon became jealous of her mother-in-law’s influence over the King. Her relations with her sisters-in-law also were never cordial, and with the Princess Augusta she was soon at open feud.

George III. and Charlotte were married at the Chapel Royal, St. James’s Palace, on September 8, 1761, and a fortnight later were crowned in Westminster Abbey. The Princess Matilda, then ten years of age, witnessed her brother’s wedding, but unofficially, from a private pew. Her first public appearance was made at the coronation, when we find her following the Princess-Dowager in a procession from the House of Lords to Westminster Abbey. A platform, carpeted with blue baize and covered by an awning, had been erected across Palace Yard to the south door of the Abbey, and over this platform the Princess-Dowager and all her children passed, except the King, who was to be crowned, and Prince Edward and Princess Augusta, who were in their Majesties’ procession.

“The Princess-Dowager of Wales,” it is written, “was led by the hand by Prince William Henry, dressed in white and silver. Her train, which was of silk, was cut short, and therefore not borne by any person, and her hair flowed down her shoulders in hanging curls. She had no cap, but only a circlet of diamonds. The rest of the princes and princesses, her Highness’s children, followed in order of their age: Prince Henry Frederick, also in white and silver, handing his sister Princess Louisa Anne, dressed in a slip with hanging sleeves. Prince Frederick William, likewise in white and silver, handing his youngest sister, the Princess Matilda, dressed also in a slip with hanging sleeves. Both the young princesses had their hair combed upwards, which was contrived to lie flat at the back of their heads in an elegant taste.”[16]

For some time after George III.’s marriage the Princess-Dowager and Bute continued to be all-powerful with the King. The aged Prime Minister, the Duke of Newcastle, clung to office as long as he could, but at last was forced to resign, and in 1762 Lord Bute became Prime Minister. The Princess-Dowager’s hand was very visible throughout Bute’s brief administration; her enemy the Duke of Devonshire, “the Prince of the Whigs,” as she styled him, was ignominiously dismissed from office, and his name struck off the list of privy councillors. Other great Whig Lords, who had slighted or opposed her, were treated in a similar manner. Peace was made with France on lines the Princess-Dowager had indicated before her son came to the throne, and a still greater triumph, the peace was approved by a large majority in Parliament, despite the opposition of the Whig Lords. “Now,” cried the Princess exultingly, “now, my son is King of England!” It was her hour of triumph.

But though the Whigs were defeated in Parliament, they took their revenge outside. The ignorant mob was told that the peace was the first step towards despotism, the despotism of the Princess-Dowager and her led-captain Bute, and the torrent of abuse swelled in volume. One evening when the Princess was present at the play, at a performance of Cibber’s comedy, The Careless Husband, the whole house rose when one of the actresses spoke the following lines: “Have a care, Madam, an undeserving favourite has been the ruin of many a prince’s empire”. The hoots and insults from the gallery were so great that the Princess drew the curtains of her box and quitted the house. Nor was this all. In Wilkes’s periodical, The North Briton, appeared an essay in which, under the suggestive names of Queen Isabella and her paramour “the gentle Mortimer,” the writer attacked the Princess-Dowager and the Prime Minister. Again, in a caricature entitled “The Royal Dupe,” the young King was depicted as sleeping in his mother’s lap, while Bute was stealing his sceptre, and Fox picking his pocket. In Almon’s Political Register there appeared a gross frontispiece, in which the Earl of Bute figured as secretly entering the bedchamber of the Princess-Dowager; a widow’s lozenge with the royal arms hung over the bed, to enforce the identity. Worst of all, one night, when the popular fury had been inflamed to its height, a noisy mob paraded under the windows of Carlton House, carrying a gallows from which hung a jack-boot and a petticoat which they afterwards burned (the first a miserable pun on the name of John Earl of Bute, and the second to signify the King’s mother). The Princess-Dowager heard the uproar from within and learned the cause from her frightened household. She alone remained calm. “Poor deluded people, how I pity them,” she said, “they will know better some day.”

What her children thought of all this is not precisely recorded, but it would seem that the King stood alone among them in the sympathy and support he gave to his mother. Prince Edward, Duke of York, and the Princess Augusta were openly hostile to Lord Bute. Prince Edward declared that he suffered “a thousand mortifications” because of him. Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, was sullenly resentful, and even Prince Henry Frederick, Duke of Cumberland, made sarcastic remarks. What Matilda thought there is no means of knowing; she was too young to understand, but children are quick-witted, and since her favourite brother, Edward, and her favourite sister, Augusta, felt so strongly on the subject, she probably shared their prejudices. There is little doubt that the mysterious intimacy between the Princess-Dowager and Lord Bute was the cause of much ill-feeling between her and her children, and had the effect of weakening her authority over them and of losing their respect. Years after, when she had occasion to remonstrate with Matilda, her daughter retorted with a bitter allusion to Lord Bute.

The Princess Augusta had inherited her mother’s love of dabbling in politics, and as her views were strongly opposed to those of the Princess-Dowager the result did not conduce to the domestic harmony of Carlton House. The Princess Augusta, of all the royal children, had suffered most from the intimacy between her mother and Lord Bute. Horace Walpole wrote of her some time before: “Lady Augusta, now a woman grown, was, to facilitate some privacy for the Princess, dismissed from supping with her mother, and sent back to cheese-cakes with her little sister Elizabeth, on the pretence that meat at night would fatten her too much”.[17] Augusta secretly resented the cheese-cakes, but she was then too young to show open mutiny. Now that she had grown older she became bolder. She was the King’s eldest sister, and felt that she was entitled to a mind of her own. Therefore, with her brother, the Duke of York, she openly denounced Lord Bute and all his works, and lavished admiration on his great rival, Pitt. This was a little too much for the Princess-Dowager, who feared that Augusta would contaminate the minds of her younger brothers and sisters. She resolved therefore to marry her to some foreign husband, and thus remove her from the sphere of her present political activities. Moreover, it was quite time that Augusta was married. She had completed her twenty-sixth year and her youthful beauty was on the wane. “Lady Augusta,” writes Horace Walpole, “is not handsome, but tall enough and not ill-made, with the German whiteness of hair and complexion so remarkable in the royal family, and with their precipitate yet thick Westphalian accent.”[18]

Augusta might have married before, but she was extremely English in her tastes, and had a great objection to leaving the land of her birth. Neither her mother nor her brother would entertain the idea of an English alliance, and so at last they arranged a marriage between her and Charles William Ferdinand, Hereditary Prince of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel, a famous soldier, and the favourite nephew of Frederick the Great. The Prince arrived in England in January, 1764. He had never seen his bride before he came, not even her portrait, but when he saw her he expressed himself charmed, adding that if he had not been pleased with her he should have returned to Brunswick without a wife. Augusta, equally frank, said that she would certainly have refused to marry him if she had found him unsatisfactory. They were married in the great council chamber of St. James’s Palace with little ceremony. The bride’s presents were few and meagre, and Augusta declared that Queen Charlotte even grudged her the diamonds which formed the King’s wedding gift. Four days after the marriage a civic deputation waited upon the pair at Leicester House, and presented an address of congratulation. Princess Matilda was present, and stood at the right hand of her mother.

The King did not like the popularity of his brother-in-law, and therefore hurried the departure of the newly wed couple. The Princess of Brunswick shed bitter tears on leaving her native land. The day she left she spent the whole morning at Leicester House saying good-bye to her friends, and frequently appeared at the windows that the people outside might see her. More than once the Princess threw open the window and kissed her hand to the crowd. It was very tempestuous weather when the Prince and Princess set out on their long journey to Brunswick, and after they had put to sea rumours reached London that their yacht had gone down in the storm; but, though they were for a time in great danger, eventually they landed and reached Brunswick safely.

The marriage of the Princess Augusta was soon followed by the betrothal of her youngest sister. The Princess Matilda was only in her thirteenth year. But though too young to be married, her mother and the King, her brother, did not think it too soon to make arrangements for her betrothal.

The reigning King of Denmark and Norway, Frederick V., for some years had wished to bind more closely the ties which already existed between him and the English royal family. The late Queen of Denmark, Queen Louise, was the youngest daughter of King George II. She had married Frederick V., and had borne him a son and daughters. After her death the King of Denmark cherished an affectionate remembrance of his Queen and a liking for the country whence she came. He therefore approached the old King, George II., with the suggestion of a marriage in the years to come between his son, the Crown Prince Christian, then an infant, and one of the daughters of Frederick Prince of Wales. After George II.’s death the idea of this alliance was again broached to George III. through the medium of Titley,[19] the English envoy at Copenhagen.

The King, after consultation with his mother, put forward his second surviving sister, the Princess Louisa Anne (who was about the same age as the Crown Prince Christian), as a suitable bride. But Bothmar, the Danish envoy in London, reported to the court of Copenhagen that Louisa Anne, though talented and amiable, was very delicate, and he suggested that the King of Denmark should ask for the Princess Matilda instead. This Princess was the beauty of the family, and her lively disposition and love of outdoor exercise seemed to show that she had a strong constitution. George III. demurred a little at first, on account of his sister’s extreme youth, but after some pour-parlers he gave his consent, and the King of Denmark sent orders to Bothmar to demand formally the hand of the Princess Matilda in marriage for his son the Crown Prince. At the same time Bernstorff, the Danish Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs,[20] wrote to Titley, acquainting him with the proposed alliance, but asking him to keep the matter a profound secret until all preliminaries were arranged.[21]

A few days later Titley wrote home to Lord Sandwich: “I received from Baron Bernstorff (by the King of Denmark’s command) a very obliging letter acquainting me with the agreeable and important commission which had been sent that same day to Count Bothmar in London.... The amiable character of the Prince of Denmark is universally acknowledged here, so that the union appearing perfectly suitable, and equally desirable on both sides, I hope soon to have an opportunity of congratulating you, my Lord, upon its being unalterably fixed and settled.”[22]

Within the next few months everything was arranged except the question of the Princess’s dower, which had to be voted by Parliament. In the meantime a preliminary treaty between the King of Denmark and the King of Great Britain was drafted and signed in London by Lord Sandwich on the one part and Bothmar on the other. This was in the autumn, when Parliament was not sitting, but the Danish Government stipulated that the announcement of the marriage was not to be delayed beyond the next session of Parliament, though the marriage itself, on account of the extreme youth of both parties, would be deferred for a few years.

Accordingly, at the opening of Parliament on January 10, 1765, George III. in his speech from the throne said:—

“I have now the satisfaction to inform you that I have agreed with my good brother the King of Denmark to cement the union which has long subsisted between the two crowns by the marriage of the Prince Royal of Denmark with my sister the Princess Caroline Matilda, which is to be solemnised as soon as their respective ages will admit”.

In the address to the throne Parliament replied to the effect that the proposed marriage was most pleasing to them, as it would tend to strengthen the ancient alliance between the crowns of Great Britain and Denmark, and “thereby add security to the Protestant religion”.[23]

On January 18 the King gave a grand ball at St. James’s Palace in honour of the double event of his youngest sister’s betrothal and Queen Charlotte’s birthday. On this occasion the Princess Matilda made her first appearance at court, when she opened the ball by dancing a minuet with her brother, Prince Edward Duke of York. The Princess was then only thirteen and a half years old, but she won the admiration of all the court by her beauty and grace. She was very fair, with hair almost flaxen in hue, pale gold with a gleam of silver in it, large tender blue eyes, an arched nose, a well-shaped mouth (the underlip perhaps a little too full), and a complexion like the wild rose. Her figure was shapely and developed beyond her years, and she carried herself with ease and dignity.

The feelings of the Princess Matilda, who was thus betrothed to a Prince whom she had never seen, were not consulted in the slightest degree. The proposed marriage seemed a suitable one; and it was more brilliant than that of her sister, the Princess Augusta; moreover, it would strengthen the political alliance between England and Denmark, and, it was hoped, give England more influence in the Baltic. These considerations were sufficient for her brother, George III., who must be held directly responsible for this marriage. The question of his sister’s happiness, or unhappiness, did not enter. The child Princess disliked the idea from the first; her ladies-in-waiting noticed that so far from showing any pleasure at her added dignity she became pensive and melancholy. She was too young to realise all this marriage would mean to her, but she knew that it would involve exile from her native country, and separation from her family, and she grieved much in secret, though afraid to show her unhappiness openly. She gave some hint of her feelings to her aunt, the Princess Amelia, soon after her betrothal.

The Princess Amelia often went to Bath, then a very gay place, where she played cards and talked scandal to her heart’s content. She had a great liking for her little niece, and she asked permission to take her to Bath on one of these visits for a few weeks. Matilda, weary of the dulness and seclusion of Carlton House, pleaded hard to go, but the Princess-Dowager would not hear of it. She disliked her sister-in-law and disapproved of her card-playing proclivities. Matilda was greatly disappointed at her mother’s refusal, and said that she had been looking forward to the journey, for she loved to travel. The Princess Amelia tried to cheer her niece, and remarked jocularly: “It will not be long before you will have plenty of travelling”. “I know what you mean,” said Matilda, “but surely it would be happier for me to stay where I am, than go so far for a Prince I have never seen.”