It was like Frederick’s monkeyish humour to make the portly and pompous Dodington work in his garden; no doubt he hugely enjoyed the sight. The Prince’s amusements were varied, if we may judge from the following account by Dodington:—
“1750, June 28.—Lady Middlesex, Lord Bathurst, Mr. Breton and I waited on their Royal Highnesses to Spitalfields to see the manufactory of silk, and to Mr. Carr’s shop in the morning. In the afternoon the same company, with Lady Torrington in waiting, went in private coaches to Norwood Forest to see a settlement of gypsies. We returned and went to Bettesworth the conjurer, in hackney coaches. Not finding him we went in search of the little Dutchman, but were disappointed; and concluded the particularities of this day by supping with Mrs. Cannon, the Princess’s midwife.”[3]
[3] Bubb Dodington’s Diary, edition 1784.
These, it must be admitted, were not very intellectual amusements. On the other hand it stands to Frederick’s credit that he chose as his personal friends some of the ablest men of the day, and found delight and recreation in their society. Between him and Bolingbroke there existed the warmest sympathy. When Bolingbroke came back to England after Walpole’s fall, he renewed his friendship with Frederick, and often paced with him and the Princess through the gardens and shrubberies of their favourite Kew, while he waxed eloquent over the tyranny of the Whig oligarchy, which kept the King in thrall, and held up before them his ideal of a patriot king. Both the Prince and Princess listened eagerly to Bolingbroke’s theories, and in after years the Princess instilled them into the mind of her eldest son. Chesterfield and Sir William Wyndham also came to Kew sometimes, and here Frederick and Augusta exhibited with just pride their flower-beds to Pope, who wrote of his patron—
And if yet higher the proud list should end
Still, let me add, no follower, but a friend.
The Prince not only sought the society of men of letters, but made some attempts at authorship himself. His verse was not very remarkable; the best perhaps was the poem addressed to the Princess beginning:—
’Tis not the liquid brightness of those eyes,
That swim with pleasure and delight;