The virtues of this unfortunate princess were many of them concealed with as much art as if they had been her reproach. She had a ready and quick apprehension, a lively and strong imagination, with a large compass of thought. She excelled in an uncommon turn for conversation, assisted by a natural vivacity, and very peculiar talents for mirth and humour. She loved a repartee, was happy in making one herself, and bearing it from others. And as this talent was rendered not only inoffensive, but amiable by the greatest good-nature and cheerfulness of disposition, she was the life of the company, and the delight of all that had the honour to approach her. And though it generally requires much care and resolution to govern any extraordinary degree of life and spirit, she had no pains of that sort to overcome, having been blessed with a natural serenity and calmness of mind that was inexpressible, and is hardly ever accompanied with such uncommon share of vivacity; but in her it had so much the ascendant, that it was invariably the same, and constantly remained with her through the whole course of her misfortunes, so that she had reason to express her thankfulness to God, as she often did, that he had given her a temper which enabled her to support herself under the load of injuries she sustained.
Her gentleness of nature showed itself in every instance, both in public and private, and inclined her to study all the ways of making herself agreeable, and of suiting her discourse to the persons with whom she conversed. But though her general manner of receiving company in public was very obliging and gracious, she knew how to distinguish persons of real merit, and had an effectual way of making those for whom she had any particular regard fully sensible of the distinction she made. The same softness of behaviour, and the same command of herself that appeared in the drawing-room, went along with her into her private apartments, and delighted every one that was about her, down to her meanest attendant.
Her generosity was extended in the most impartial manner to persons of different sects and parties; but her principal regards were paid to such as were in the greatest distress, to those who were under the disability of receiving a maintenance from the public, as well as to the widows and children of clergymen and officers whose families, by their deaths, were reduced at once from a state of plenty to a want of the common necessaries of life.
In these acts of benevolence she avoided all appearance of show and ostentation so much, that many persons who subsisted by her bounty were really ignorant of their benefactor. She conversed in private with persons of all the different turns of genius in the whole compass of arts and sciences; and with a few whom she honoured with a more particular regard, she entered into all the freedoms of private and familiar life, and showed that she could let herself down from her dignity as if she had never possessed it, and could resume it again as if she had never parted with it.
It was this affability, however, that enabled her enemies to ruin her. Perfectly innocent, and even virtuous in her conduct, her levity and good humour threw her off her guard, and made her less circumspect than her situation required. She conformed with difficulty to the strict ceremonial which was observed at the court of Copenhagen; a vanity, inseparable from the youthful part of the female sex, made her pleased to see the influence of her beauty on all around her, and she indulged herself in an easy familiarity with persons who were more remarkable for their knowledge and abilities than the greatness of their rank. Wicked instruments were planted by her unrelenting enemy the queen dowager, who put a malignant interpretation on all the harmless liberties taken by this amiable princess; and, paying no regard either to truth or humanity in the calumnies which they suggested, insinuated the most cruel suspicions into the king's ear, and took the most criminal methods to destroy her character with the public.
To these infernal machinations the amiable Matilda fell a sacrifice, in the bloom of youth and beauty, and the zenith of power. After her retirement to Zell she was often heard to wish for death, which the innocence of her life, as well as the misfortunes to which she had been exposed, rendered a most welcome guest; and her last moments passed in imploring forgiveness for her enemies, and recommending her children, for whose safety she was exceedingly apprehensive, to the protection of the Almighty.