THE NEW HOME.
The Princess desires to have Lord Malmesbury for her lord
chamberlain--The Duchess a coarse-minded woman--The Duke
of Clarence her bitter enemy--The Duke and Duchess’s caution
to Lord Malmesbury, and his dignified reply--The Abbess
of Gandersheim’s opinion of mankind--Difficult question
proposed by the Princess, and Lord Malmesbury’s gallant reply
--The Abbess without human sympathy--A state dinner, and a
mischievous anonymous letter--The Princess’s departure for
England--Her indifference to money--Instances--Ignorance
of the Duchess--Difficulties of the journey--The Princess’s
design to reform the Prince of Wales--Indefatigable care of
Lord Malmesbury--Story of the Princess at Hanover--Care as
to her toilette recommended--Presents given by the Princess--
Her arrival in England--Ridiculed by Lady Jersey--Reproof
administered to her ladyship by Lord Malmesbury--The first
interview of the Prince and Princess--Cold reception of the
bride--Flippant conduct of the Princess--Lord Malmesbury
reproached by the Prince of Wales.
It is to the credit of the Princess Caroline that she took in such
good part all that Lord Malmesbury told her, and that she was desirous
of having him appointed her lord chamberlain; a prematurely expressed
desire which did her honour, gratified the object of it, and was never
realised. She, no doubt, respected him, for the advice he gave her was
not only parental, but much of it might have come from a tender and
affectionate mother. But _her_ mother was a coarse-minded, weak-hearted
woman, who had little regard for propriety, was not affected by the
disregard of it in her husband, and who told stories at table, in her
daughter’s presence, that would have called up a blush of shame, if not
of indignation, on the cheek of a dragoon.
It was after such stories that Lord Malmesbury particularly enjoined
the Princess, if she cared to please, to commune much with herself, and
to think deeply before she spoke. Her family was a strange one, but
not stranger, in many respects, than that into which she was going.
Her admission there, indeed, at all, was perhaps a consequence of hate
rather than love. Prince William, Duke of Clarence, had been among
the first to speak of the Princess Caroline of Brunswick as a wife
for the Prince of Wales. He had been led to do this because he hated
the Duchess of York, knew that the Princess and Duchess hated each
other, and felt sure that the marriage of the former with the heir
to the throne would be wormwood to the Duchess. The Duke of Clarence
was, ultimately, one of the bitterest and the most unreasonable of
the enemies of this very Princess whom he had helped to drag up to
greatness.
With regard to the feelings of the Princess against the excellent
Duchess of York, the envoy endeavoured to turn them into a sentiment
of respect for one who was worthy of such homage. Indeed, he was so
indefatigable with his counsel that the ducal parents became fearful
lest there might be even too much of it for his own profit, if not for
their daughter’s good. It was suggested to him that the Princess, in a
moment of fondness, might communicate to the Prince all he had said to
her, and so he ‘would run the risk of getting into a scrape’ with his
Royal Highness on his return. Lord Malmesbury, who was the envoy of
the King and not of the Prince, replied with readiness, dignity, and
effect. ‘I replied,’ he said, ‘that luckily I was in a situation not to
want the Prince’s favour; that it was of infinitely more consequence
to the public, and even to me (in the rank I filled in its service),
that the Princess of Wales should honour and become her high situation,
recover the dignity and respect due to our princes and royal family,
which had, of late, been so much and so dangerously let down by their
mixing so indiscriminately with their inferiors, than that I should
have the emoluments and advantages of a favourite at Carlton House;
and that idea was so impressed on my mind that I should certainly say
to the Prince everything I had said to the Princess Caroline.’ He had
a difficult pupil in the latter lady. After a whole page of record
touching how important it was that she should practise reserve and
dignity, we remark the condemnatory entry: ‘Concert in the evening; the
Princess Caroline talks very much--quite at her ease--too much so.’
In another chapter of the family romance we find the aunt of the
Princess--the Abbess of Gandersheim--exhorting her niece to put
no trust in men at all; assuring her that her husband would deceive
her, that she would not be happy, ‘and all the nonsense of an envious
and a desiring old maid.’ The gaiety of the Princess was eclipsed, for
a moment, by the chill cloud thrown across it by the remarks of her
aunt. The envoy, however, restored the ordinary sunshine by requesting
the Princess, the next time the Abbess held similar discourse, to ask
her whether, if she proposed to give up the Prince to her aunt, and
take the Abbey of Gandersheim in place thereof, she would then ‘think
men to be such monsters, and whether she would not expose herself to
all the dangers and misfortunes of such a marriage?’ This sally, with
good counsel to garnish it, not only restored the good-humour of the
Princess, but made her more desirous than ever to attach the envoy
personally to her service as soon as her household as Princess of Wales
should be established. Lord Malmesbury avoided an explicit answer, but
entreated her not to solicit anything in his behalf. ‘I had,’ he says,
‘the Duke of Suffolk and Queen Margaret in my thoughts.’ He, further,
was more anxious than ever with reference to the results of this
marriage. With a _steady_ man, he thought, the impulsive bride might
have a chance of bliss; but with one that was not so he saw that her
risks were many and great indeed. In the meanwhile he poured counsel
into her mind--as Mr. Gradgrind used to pour facts into the juvenile
intellect at Coketown--by the imperial gallon. The Princess continued
to take it all well, but the giver of it was shrewd enough to see that
‘in the long run it must displease.’ He was right in his conclusion,
for the night after he expressed the conviction the Princess remarked,
on some grave monition of his, that she should never learn it all, and
that she was too light-minded ever to do so.
Ward and guardian had been running a parallel between the former and
her sister-in-law, younger than herself, the hereditary Princess of
Brunswick. The Princess Caroline had asked Lord Malmesbury which
he thought would make the better Princess of Wales, herself or her
sister-in-law? To this difficult question the envoy replied gallantly
that he knew which would be the Prince’s choice; that she possessed
by nature what the hereditary Princess neither had or could ever
acquire--beauty and grace. He added, in his character of mentor, ‘that
all the essential qualities the hereditary Princess has _she_ might
attain--prudence, discretion, attention, and tact.’ ‘Do I want them?’
‘You cannot have too much of them.’ ‘How comes my sister-in-law, who
is younger than myself, to have them more than I?’ ‘Because, at a very
early period of her life, her family was in danger; she was brought up
to exertion of the mind, and now she derives the benefit _d’avoir mangé
son pain bis le premier_!’ ‘I shall never learn this,’ was the remark
of the Princess, with some confession of her defects. Lord Malmesbury
encouraged her by saying that when she found herself in a different
situation she would be prepared for its exigencies if she questioned
and communed deeply with herself now. In short, he gave excellent
advice, and if counsel could have cured the radical defects of a
vicious education, Caroline would have crossed the seas to her new home
peerless among brides.
At length the hour approached for the departure of the bride, but
before it struck there had well-nigh been an angry scene. Lord
Malmesbury had faithfully narrated to the Prince all that his
commission allowed him to narrate touching his doings. His opinion
of the bride he of course kept to himself. The Prince wrote back a
complete approval of all he had done, but added a prohibition of the
Princess being accompanied to England by a Mademoiselle Rosenzweit,
who, as his Royal Highness understood, had been named as ‘a sort of
reader.’ The Prince, for what reason is not known, would not have her
in that or in any other character. The Duke and Duchess of Brunswick
were exceedingly annoyed by this exercise of authority on the part
of the royal husband, but they were, of course, compelled to submit.
The motive for the nomination of this lady deserves to be noticed,
particularly as the Duke, who kept a ‘favourite’ at the table where his
wife presided, and the Duchess, who told coarse and indelicate stories
there which disgusted the ‘favourite,’ had been particularly boastful
concerning the very severe education of the Princess.
When it was agreed that Mademoiselle Rosenzweit should not accompany
the Princess as ‘a sort of reader,’ the Duke of Brunswick took Lord
Malmesbury aside, and stated that the reason why he wished her to be
with the Princess was, that his daughter wrote very ill and spelt ill,
and he was desirous that this should not appear. The noble diarist
adds, ‘that his Serene Highness was not at all so serenely indifferent
on the matter as he pretended to be. He affected to be so, ‘“but at
the bottom was hurt and angry.”’
The last day the unhappy bride ever spent in a home which, considering
all things, had been a happy home to _her_, was one of mingled sighs,
tears, dignity, and meanness. The Duke rose into something like dignity
also, and exhibited a momentary touch of paternal feeling as the
hour of departure drew near, and his glory, as well as his paternal
affection, was concerned in the conduct and bearing of his daughter.
There was a dinner, which would have been cordial enough but for the
arrival of an anonymous letter, warning the Duchess and the Princess
of the dangers the latter would run from a profligate ‘Lady ----,’ the
blank of which may be filled up with the name of Jersey. The letter
had been addressed to the Duchess, but that extremely prudent lady
had informed her poor daughter of its contents, and discussed the
letter openly with all those who cared to take part in the discussion.
Lord Malmesbury suspected the epistle to come from the party of the
disappointed Mademoiselle de Rosenzweit. It was a vulgar epistle, the
chief point in which was the assertion that the ‘Lady ----’ would
certainly do her utmost to lead the Princess into some act of injury to
her own husband’s honour. The Princess was not herself much terrified
on this point, and for _that_ reason Lord Malmesbury told her very
gravely that it was _death_ for a man to approach the Princess of Wales
with any idea of winning her affections from her husband, and that no
man would be daring enough to think of it. The poor bride, something
startled, inquired if _that_ were really the law. Lord Malmesbury
answered, ‘that such was the law; that anybody who presumed to _love_
her would be guilty of _high_ treason, and punished with _death_, if
she were weak enough to listen to him; so also would _she_.’ This
startled her. Naturally so; between advice, evil prophecy, menace,
dark innuendoes, the necessity of going to church, and the possibility
of ending on a scaffold, the bride might well be startled.
Nor was the letter above alluded to the only one which was a source of
uneasiness to the Princess. George III. had written to the Duchess,
expressing his ‘hope that his niece would not indulge in too much
vivacity, but would lead a sedentary and retired life.’ This letter
also was exhibited by the injudicious mother to her daughter; and while
the latter was wondering what the conclusion of all this turmoil might
be, Mademoiselle de Hertzfeldt reiterated that the only way for the
Prince to manage her would be by fear. ‘Ay,’ said the virtuous lady,
‘even by terror; she will emancipate herself if care be not taken of
her. Watched narrowly and severely, she may conduct herself well!’
Amid such a confusion of scenes, incidents, things, and persons, the
Princess Caroline was variously affected. Her last banquet in her
father’s halls was an epitome of the sorrows, cares, mock-splendour,
and much misery of the time to come.
On Monday, December the 29th, 1795, the bride left Brunswick ‘for
good.’ It was two o’clock in the afternoon when the envoy departed
from the palace with his fair companion in his charge. To render her
safety less exposed to risk, Major Hislop had gone forward ‘to give
notice in case of danger from the enemy.’ The cannon from the ramparts
of the city thundered out to her their last farewell, and the citizens
assembled in crowds to see the Princess pass forth on her path--of
roses, as they good-naturedly hoped; but, in fact, on her way strewn
with thorns.
For three days the travellers pressed forward in something of long
file, making, however, short journeys, and not getting very rapidly
over them. On the third day the Princess, weary of being alone with
two ladies, invited Lord Malmesbury to ride in the same coach with
her. He ‘resisted it as impossible, from its being improper;’ and he
continued to discountenance the matter, and she to laugh at him for his
inviolable punctilio.
What with the impediments thrown in their way by the war then raging in
front of them, between the French on one side and the Dutch and English
on the other--and the alternating features of which now enabled them
to hurry on, now checked their course--what with the incidents of
these stirring times, and the hard frost during which they occurred,
cavaliers and ladies made but tardy way, were half-frozen, and not
inconsiderably dispirited. For a time they tarried at Osnaburg, where
Lord Malmesbury narrates an anecdote for the purpose of showing the
character of the Princess, and which is to this effect.
Many distressed French _émigrés_ were to be found at Osnaburg, some of
them ‘dying of hunger, and through want.’ The rest, the gallant leader
of our escort shall tell in his own words: ‘I persuaded the Princess
Caroline to be munificent towards them--she disposed to be, but not
knowing _how_ to set about it, I tell her liberality and generosity
is an enjoyment, not a sworn virtue. She gives a _louis_ for some
lottery tickets. _I_ give _ten_, and say the Princess ordered me--she
surprised. I said I was sure she did not mean to give for the ticket
its _prime_ value, and that I forestalled her intention. Next day a
French _émigré_ with a pretty child draws near the table. The Princess
Caroline immediately, of her own accord, puts the louis in a paper and
gives them to the child. The Duchess of Brunswick observes it, and
inquires of me (I was dining between them) what it was. I tell her _a
demand on her purse_. She embarrassed: “Je n’ai que mes beaux doubles
louis de Brunswick.” I answer: “Qu’ils deviendront plus beaux dans
les mains de cet enfant que dans sa poche.” She ashamed, and gives
three of them. In the evening the Princess Caroline, to whom this sort
of virtue was never preached, on my praising the coin of the money
at Brunswick, offers _me very seriously eight or ten double louis_,
saying: “Cela ne me fait rien--je ne m’en soucie pas--je vous prie de
les prendre.” I mention these facts to show her character: it could not
distinguish between giving as a benevolence and flinging away the money
like a child. She thought that the art of getting rid of the money,
and not seeming to care about it, constituted the merit. I took an
opportunity at supper of defining to her what real benevolence was, and
I recommended it to her as a quality that would, if rightly employed,
make her more admirers and give her more true satisfaction than any
that human nature could possess. The idea was, I am sorry to see, new
to her, but she felt the truth of it; and she certainly is not fond of
money, which both her parents are.’
This indifference to money was amply manifested throughout the
course of her after life. At a period of that life when she was most
distressed she might have earned a right royal revenue, had she cared
to sacrifice to it--her reputation. With all her faults, she had none
of the avarice of her mother especially. She had more of the ignorance
of the latter, but even she would not have been led into betraying
it as her mother did when looking at the Dusseldorff collection of
pictures, which at this time had been removed to Osnaburg, to save it
from the calamities of war. Her Serene Highness was shown a Gerard
Dow. ‘And who is Gerard Dow?’ said she; ‘was he of Dusseldorff?’
The severity of this lady’s education must have been something like
that given to the Princess. The mother had never heard of Dow! The
daughter wrote ill and spelt worse. She, some years subsequent to the
journey upon which we are now accompanying her, described the Princess
Charlotte in a letter as her ‘deer angle.’ She was indeed ever profuse
with epithets of endearment. The ladies whom she saw for the first time
during this her bridal progress to her husband’s house were addressed
by her as ‘Mon cœur, ma chère, ma petite.’ Lord Malmesbury again played
the monitor when these freedoms were indulged in, and his pupil began
to care less for both advice and adviser. The bride’s mother, too, got
weary of her journey--afraid of being taken prisoner by the enemy,
and was anxious to leave her daughter and return home. The envoy
resisted this as improper, until the moment she had placed the Princess
in the hands of her proper attendants. Lord Malmesbury not only made
‘her lady mother’ continue at her post, but, on leaving Osnaburg, he
induced her to give fifty louis to the servants--very much indeed
against her will. She neither loved to give money away herself, nor to
have the virtue of liberality impressed upon her daughter as one worth
observing. In most respects, however, the daughter was superior to the
mother. Thus, when at Benthem, they were waited on and complimented by
President Fonk and Count Benthem de Steinfort--two odd figures, and
still more oddly dressed--the Duchess burst into a fit of laughter at
beholding them. The Princess had the inclination to do as much, but she
contrived to enjoy her hilarity without hurting the feelings of the two
accomplished and oddly-dressed gentlemen who had come to do her honour.
The Princess was less delicate with regard to odd women. Thus, she
met Madame la Présidente Walmoden at Osnaburg, whom she asked to
play at cards at her table, and made giggling remarks about her, in
half-whispers, to the younger ladies of the party. The Princess
disliked the Présidente; the Duchess, on the other hand, had pleasure
in her society. Présidente and Duchess vied with each other in telling
stories, and the latter was comically indelicate to her heart’s content.
Great difficulties had still to be encountered in the way of their
progress towards the sea-coast, and more than one wide wave from
far-off battles drove them back, again and again, to cities of which
they had before taken, as they believed, a final farewell. In the midst
of it all there was much ‘fun,’ some frowning, a little bickering,
advice without end, and amendment always beginning. Still, as the
party proceeded, half-frozen to death on their way by the rigour of a
winter such as Lord Malmesbury had not felt since he was in Russia,
the Princess especially loved to talk of her future prospects and
intentions. Perhaps the most singular dream in which she indulged was
that of undertaking and accomplishing--for she had no doubt as to
the result--the reformation of the Prince. She felt, she said, that
she was to fill the _vide_ in the situation in which he stood, caused
by his isolation from the King and Queen. She would domesticate him,
she said, and give him a taste for all the private and home virtues.
His happiness would then be of a higher quality than it ever had been
before, and he would owe it all to her. This was the pleasant dream of
a young bride full of good intentions, and who was strangely called
upon to project the reformation of her husband, even before she had
seen him, or could have taken that interest in him which could only
arise from esteem founded on personal intercourse. This result, she
declared, the nation expected at her hands; and she would realise it,
for she felt herself capable of effecting it.
To all this agreeable devising Lord Malmesbury replied in encouraging
speeches, mingled with gravest counsel and solemn admonition as to her
bearing. This the Princess generally took in excellent part, while the
Duchess, her mother, was grumbling at the intense cold or slumbering
uneasily under it; and the servants outside the carriages were as
nearly frozen as people could be, but were kept from that absolute
catastrophe by generous liquor and the warmth of their indignation.
The bride ought to have been perfect in her character, for her mentor
lost no opportunity in endeavouring to so prepare her that she might
make a favourable impression upon the King and Queen. It must, too,
be said for her, that her amiability under this reiterated didactic
process was really very great. She felt nothing but respect for her
teacher, and that says much for the instruction given, as also for the
way in which it was conveyed. On one occasion, we are told, she ended,
on retiring for the night, by saying that she hoped the Prince would
let her see Lord Malmesbury, since she never could expect that any one
would ‘give her such good and such free advice as myself;’ and she
added, ‘I confess I could not bear it from any one but you.’
On Saturday, the 24th of January 1795, the travellers entered Hanover
blue with cold, of which the benumbed Duchess complained in no very
elegant terms. Lord Malmesbury was exceedingly anxious that the
Princess should be popular here, as according to the impression of
her reported hence to England would probably be that of the King and
Queen on her arrival. Lord Malmesbury told her that she was Zémire
and Hanover Azor; and that, if she behaved rightly, the monster would
be metamorphosed into a beauty; that Beulwitz (at the head of the
regency, the most ugly and most disagreeable man possible) would change
into the Prince of Wales; that the habit of proper princely behaviour
was _natural to her_--an assertion which was not true, as even the
diplomatist showed, by adding ‘that it would come of itself; that
_acquired_ by this (in that respect) fortunate delay in our journey,
it would belong to her, and become familiar to her on her coming to
England, where it would be of infinite advantage.’
And yet Hanover was not a very particular place; that is, it was not
inhabited--the court end of it, at least--by very particular,
strict, or strait-laced people. The Princess was particularly careful
of her conduct before persons, some of whom appear to have generally
got intoxicated before dinner was over. Nevertheless, Lord Malmesbury
did effect a very notable change for the better in the Princess’s
habits. He had been before addressing himself to the improvement of
principle; he now came to a personal matter, and, if one might be
pardoned for laughing at any incident in the life of a poor woman whose
life was anything rather than a matter to be laughed at, this is the
time when one might do so with least reproach.
The party had been three weeks at Hanover, and, during that time, Lord
Malmesbury had held frequent discussions with the Princess upon the
very delicate matter of the toilette. She prided, or to use the noble
lord’s own term, ‘she piqued herself on dressing quick.’ He disapproved
of this; for a quick dresser is a slovenly and unclean dresser. On this
point, however, she would not be convinced: probably she was the less
inclined to be so as the weather continued intensely cold, and the
next luxury to lying in bed was being quickly dressed when she got out
of it. He could not come to details with a young bride who despised
perfect ablutions; but he found a court lady, Madame Busche, through
whom he poured the necessary amount of information that should induce
the Princess to be more liberal towards her skin in the dispensation of
water. He desired Madame Busche to explain to her that the Prince was
very delicate, and that he expected a long and very careful _toilette
de propreté_, of which she had no idea. ‘On the contrary,’ he says,
‘she neglects it sadly, and is offensive from this neglect. Madame
Busche executes her commission well, and the Princess came out, the
next day, _well washed all over_!’
But still the envoy’s trouble in connection with his charge in no way
diminished. Now, he was gently reproving her for calling strange ladies
by very familiar terms; anon, he had to censure her for unasked-for
confidences touching past loves; and then, more seriously than all,
to reprimand her even, and with strong license of phrase, for her
undutiful and sneering conduct towards her mother, who, although
silly and undignified, yet deserved the respect of her own child. On
all these occasions there was some pouting, followed by acquiescence
in the reproof, and ardent promises of improvement, that were still
long a-coming. In the meantime, that delicate article of personal
cleanliness remained, upon which the Princess became as indifferent
as ever. We must again have recourse to the envoy’s own description
of what passed between him and the pretty, wayward girl he was
endeavouring to persuade out of dirtiness. On the 6th of March he
says: ‘I had two conversations with the Princess Caroline. One on the
toilette, on cleanliness, and on delicacy of speaking. On these points
I endeavoured, as far as it was possible for a _man_, to inculcate the
necessity of great and nice attention to every part of dress, as well
as to what was hid as what was seen. I knew she wore coarse petticoats,
coarse shifts, and thread stockings, and these never well washed or
changed often enough. I observed that a long toilette was necessary,
and gave her no credit for boasting that hers was a _short_ one. What
I could not say myself on this point I got said through women: through
Madame Busche, and afterwards through Mrs. Harcourt. It is remarkable
how amazingly on this point her education has been neglected, and how
much her mother, although an Englishwoman, was inattentive to it. My
other conversation was on the Princess’s speaking slightingly of the
Duchess, being peevish to her, and often laughing at her or about her.
On that point I talked _very seriously_ indeed; said that nothing was
so extremely improper, so _radically_ wrong; that it was impossible, if
she reflected for a moment, that she should not be sorry for everything
of the kind which escaped; and I assured her it was the more improper
from the tender affection the Duchess had for her. The Princess felt
all this, and it made a temporary impression. But on this, as on all
other subjects, I have had too many opportunities to observe that
her heart is very, _very_ light, unsusceptible of strong or lasting
feelings. In some respects this may make her happier, but certainly
not better. I must, however, say that on the idea being suggested to
her by her father that I should remain on business in Germany, and not
be allowed to attend her to England, she was most extremely affected,
even to tears, and spoke to me with a kindness and feeling I was highly
gratified to find in her.’
On the 24th of March the travelling bridal party quitted Hanover.
The bride made presents to the amount of 800 golden Fredericks--a
generosity which cost her little, for the money was supplied by Lord
Malmesbury, who took a receipt for it, like a man of business. It was
now that the mother and daughter parted--not again to meet till
the former was without a duchy and the latter without a spouse. The
Duchess was considerably affected. The Princess kept up her spirits,
and behaved with grace and propriety. After passing through Rottenberg
and Klosterseven, where they ‘slept at the curate’s,’ the wayfarers
reached Stade on Friday, the 27th of March. Early on the following
morning they embarked in Hanoverian boats upon the Schwinde; by nine
they reached the ‘Fly’ cutter, and in that, when the wind served, or
in boats when it slackened, they proceeded down the river, and at
seven o’clock were taken on board the ‘Jupiter,’ fifty-gun ship, amid
all the dreadful noise, confusion, and smoke which go towards doing
welcome to an illustrious traveller. As she was stepping on board a
young midshipman, named Doyle, handed her a rope, in order to assist
her. He was the first to help her, as it were, into England. Something
more than a quarter of a century later he who thus aided the bride was
charged with the mission of taking back her body. The fleet re-echoed
the thundering salute which burst from the sides of the ‘Jupiter,’
yards were manned, streamers flung out their silky lengths to the wind,
and as the Princess passed on to Cuxhaven all went as merrily as became
a marriage party.
The next day they cleared the Elbe, and on the following were off the
Texel. The Princess was cheerful, affable, good-humoured, not alarmed
by the terrors of the sea or the sight of French privateers, and a
favourite with both officers and seamen. She only made one ‘slip’ on
the passage, from a repetition of which the jealous Lord Malmesbury
guarded her by giving her a lesson in English, and counselling her not
to use a nasty word to express a nasty thing. While the royal bride
was conning her lesson her guardian was conferring with ‘Jack Payne,’
from whom he learned that the bridegroom at home was not behaving in
the most prudish way possible, and that his favourite was comporting
herself with the impudence natural to favourites before they fall.
On Good Friday morning, the 3rd of April, the ‘Jupiter’ passed Harwich,
and in the evening anchored at the Nore. On the following day the
bride ascended the Thames to Gravesend, whence, in a barge, on Easter
Sunday, and amidst thousands of welcoming spectators, she proceeded to
Greenwich, where she arrived at twelve, and found--not a soul from
St. James’s to receive her. She waited a full hour before the royal
carriages arrived, and the delay was attributed to the contrivance of
the Prince’s favourite. In the meantime the officers at the Hospital
did their honest best to welcome the poor stranger. At length the
carriages arrived, but with them no eager bridegroom. To represent
him came his mistress, with a bevy of lords and ladies. Lady Jersey
no sooner beheld the embarrassed Princess than she began to ridicule
her dress; and having done that till she was sharply reproved for her
effrontery by Lord Malmesbury, she made a sort of claim to be placed
by the side of the Princess in the carriage, on the ground that riding
backwards always made her sick. But Lord Malmesbury would listen to no
such claim, told her that she was unfit to be a lady of the bedchamber
if she were unable to ride with her back to the horses, and although
the favourite would have been glad now to ride even in that fashion
in the same carriage with the bride, the envoy would not permit it.
He placed there two ladies who were not addicted to qualms in such a
situation; and with the Princess occupying a seat alone, and sitting
forward, so as to be more easily seen, the _cortège_ set out for the
metropolis. The bride was but coldly received by the few spectators on
the road, and when she alighted at the Duke of Cumberland’s apartments,
in Cleveland Row, St. James’s, at half-past two, she must have half
wished herself back again in Brunswick.
On due notice of the arrival being made to the royal family the Prince
of Wales went immediately to visit his cousin and bride. What occurred
at the interview, of which Lord Malmesbury was the sole witness, he has
the best right to tell. ‘I, according to the established etiquette,
introduced (no one else being in the room) the Princess Caroline to
him. She very properly, in consequence of my saying to her it was the
right mode of proceeding, attempted to kneel to him. He raised her
(gracefully enough) and embraced her, said barely one word, turned
round, retired to a distant part of the apartment, and, calling me to
him, said: “Harris, I am not well; pray get me a glass of brandy.” I
said: “Sir, had you not better have a glass of water?” Upon which he,
much out of humour, said with an oath: “_No_; I will go directly to the
Queen.” And away he went. The Princess, left during this short moment
alone, was in a state of astonishment, and on my joining her said: “Mon
Dieu, est-ce que le Prince est toujours comme cela? Je le trouve très
gros et nullement aussi beau que son portrait.”’
What could the bringer of the bride say to comfort her? He stammered
out that his Royal Highness was naturally much affected and
fluttered--poor bashful man and susceptible creature--at the interview;
but he would be better by dinner time!
The Princess, however, was not herself blameless. She had already
entirely forgotten, or entirely disregarded, the good advice given to
her by Lord Malmesbury, and, short as the time had been which she had
spent at Greenwich with Lady Jersey, she had been foolish enough to
communicate to that person the alleged fact of her heart having been
already preoccupied by a young German. The interesting intelligence was
speedily communicated to the Prince, and the knowledge so acquired--
although the fact itself may have been at first doubted--certainly
had great influence on the conduct observed by the bridegroom to the
bride.
Lord Malmesbury was exceedingly perplexed. He had been so careful of
his charge that when the chances of war had obstructed the progress of
their journey, sooner than take her back to a court, the ladies of
which, never expecting to see her raised to a more exalted station than
that in which she was born, had treated her with great familiarity,
he had conducted her to dull and decorous Hanover. So tender had he
been of her that he would not allow her to remain at Osnaburg, for the
simple reason that Count d’Artois was in the vicinity; and although
Lord Malmesbury was, as he says, very far from attributing, either to
him or to those who attended him, all those vices and dangerous follies
which it was said belonged to them in the days of prosperity, yet he
felt it highly improper that the Princess of Wales and a fugitive
French prince should remain in the same place. His charge could not
have had a colder welcome had such a meeting taken place, and all
the inconveniences resulted from it which the noble lord foresaw and
dreaded. The poor deserted lady was now upon the point of indulging in
some sharp criticism upon her welcome, when her troubled conductor,
feigning necessity to attend upon the King, left the room, and her
alone in it, or with no better company than her meditations.
The usual Sunday drawing-room had just come to a close, and Lord
Malmesbury found his Majesty at leisure to converse. The last thing,
however, thought about by the King was the subject of the Princess.
His whole conversation turned upon home and foreign politics. That
ended, he inquired if the Princess were good-humoured. Lord Malmesbury
reported favourably of her in this respect, and the King expressed his
gratification in such a tone as to induce his lordship to believe that
his Majesty had seen the Queen since she had seen the Prince, and heard
from him an unfavourable report of the Princess.
The after-conduct of the latter was not calculated to create a
favourable impression. At the dinner which took place that day the
Princess was ‘flippant, rattling, affecting raillery and wit,’ and
throwing out coarse, vulgar hints about Lady Jersey, who was present,
silent, and biding her time. The disgust of the bridegroom was now
permanently fixed; and the disgust raised by lightness of bearing and
language passed into hatred when the Princess began to indulge in
coarse sarcasm.
The Prince, heartily weary of his bargain, asked Lord Malmesbury, after
one of these dinners, what he thought of the manners exhibited at them
by the Princess. The envoy could not defend them; on the contrary,
he expressed his unqualified censure, and informed the Prince of the
paternal injunctions of the Duke of Brunswick, whereby he recommended
that a strict curb should be kept upon the Princess, or she would
certainly emancipate herself. The Prince declared that he saw it too
plainly, and half reproachfully asked ‘Harris’ why he had not told him
as much before. The envoy, thus appealed to, pleaded the strictness
of his commission, which was not discretionary, but which directed
him to ask for the hand of the Princess Caroline in marriage, and
nothing more; and that, had he presumed to give any opinion of his own
upon the lady, he would have been guilty of an impertinent disregard
of his instructions, which were at once limited and imperative. Lord
Malmesbury endeavoured to put the gentlest construction upon the
sentiments expressed by the Duke of Brunswick concerning his daughter,
and added that, for his own part, he had seen nothing but slight
defects of character, which he hoped might be amended; and that, had
he observed anything more serious, he should have considered it his
duty to communicate it, but only confidentially, to the King himself.
The Prince sighed, appeared to acquiesce, but was neither consoled nor
convinced.
The ceremonial of the unhappy marriage was celebrated on Wednesday, the
8th of April, in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. The whole of the royal
family previously dined together at the Queen’s Palace, Buckingham
House, after which they proceeded to their several apartments at St.
James’s to dress. As the Princess passed through the hall of Buckingham
House the King saluted her in the heartiest fashion, and then shook as
heartily, by both hands, the Prince of Wales who had in vain sought to
raise his spirits by the adventitious aid of wine. The bridal party
assembled in the Queen’s apartment, and walked from thence to the state
drawing-rooms, which were not rendered less gloomy than usual by any
addition of festive light. They were ‘very dark,’ says Lord Malmesbury,
who walked in the procession, by command of his Majesty. The chapel
was very crowded. There is a picture of the interesting scene, which
is said to have been painted, at the King’s command, by Hugh Douglas
Hamilton, an Irish artist, whom both King and Queen had, formerly, much
patronised. All the royal sons and daughters--a beautiful family group
they were--are present in the Chapel Royal, St. James’s. The bride is
dressed in a white satin dress, worked down the front with pearls. She
wears a small crown, and from her shoulders falls a robe of rich red
crimson velvet, lined with ermine. The Prince of Wales wears a court
costume, knee breeches and buckles with pointed shoes. His coat, of
blue velvet, is richly ornamented somewhat after the fashion of the
ornaments on the dress of his bride. The ladies wear enormous hoops,
except the bride, who has no hoop. Their hair is powdered, and their
arms project from their bodies in rather a stiff attitude, rendered
necessary by the projection of the hoops. They all wear long, white
kid gloves, which extend nearly up to the elbow. Ostrich feathers bend
or bow on the ladies’ heads, rising from the forehead, and curling
gracefully at a considerable height. Near the bride are her ‘maids,’
Lady Mary Osborne, Lady Charlotte Legge, Lady Caroline Villiers, Lady
Charlotte Spencer, Lady Caroline Waldegrave. When Queen Charlotte heard
of this picture (she appears not to have sat for it) she is said to
have declared that if it was brought into Windsor Castle she would
go out of it. The King paid for but declined to receive this work,
which ultimately was disposed of by lottery, and is now in the Tussaud
Gallery, in Baker Street.
The ceremony which it represents was performed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury, Dr. Moore. The ‘Prince of Wales gave his hat, with a rich
diamond button and loop, to Lord Harcourt to hold, and made him a
present of it. After the marriage we returned to the Queen’s apartment.
The Prince very civil and gracious, but I thought I could perceive he
was not quite sincere, and certainly unhappy, and as a proof of it he
had manifestly had recourse to wine or spirits.’
Upon this point Lord Holland has afforded ample corroborative evidence.
The noble baron has stated that the Prince of Wales had had such
recourse to brandy that he with difficulty could be kept upright
between two dukes. The wedding was as melancholy a one as was ever
celebrated. The only hearty actor in it was the King, who advanced to
give the bride away with an eager alacrity. As for the bridegroom,
after having been got upon his knees, he rose, unconsciously, but
restlessly, before the proper time. The Archbishop paused, the service
was interrupted, and the Prince looked very much as if he were inclined
to run away. The King, however, had presence of mind for all. He rose
from his seat, crossed to where his son was standing with a bewildered
air, whispered to him, got him once more upon his knees, and so
happily, or unhappily, brought the ceremony to a conclusion.
The usual legal formalities followed; these were succeeded by a supper
at Buckingham House, and at midnight the luckless pair retired to their
own residence at Carlton House, quarrelling with each other, it is
said, by the way. Meanwhile the metropolis around them was rejoicing
and exhibiting its gladness by the usual manifestations of much
drunkenness and increased illumination to show it by. Asmodeus might
have startled the Spanish student that night with an exhibition such as
he had never seen beneath any of the unroofed houses of Madrid!
It sounds singular to hear that the young husband’s first serious
occupation, on thus beginning life, was the settlement of his debts.
These were enormous, and their amount only proved the reckless
dishonesty of him who had incurred them. Mr. Pitt proposed that the
income of the Prince should be 125,000_l._ a-year, exclusive of the
revenue of the Duchy of Cornwall, some 13,000_l._ more. This was
eventually agreed to. In addition, Parliament fixed the jointure of
the Princess of Wales at 50,000_l._ per annum; and the smaller but
pleasant items of 20,000_l._ for jewels and 26,000_l._ for furnishing
Carlton House were also agreed upon. Out of the above-named revenue,
however, a yearly deduction was to be made, in order that the debts
of the Prince should be discharged within nine years. This deduction
he denounced, and his brothers joined him in the denunciation, as a
breach of contract, he having married solely upon the promise that his
debts should be paid off at once. He immediately claimed the amount of
the accumulation of the receipts of the Duchy of Cornwall during his
minority. He was answered, on the part of the King, that the receipts
had been expended on his education and establishment. The consequent
debates were a scandal to the nation, a disgrace to royalty in the
person of the Prince, and cruelly insulting to the Princess, as they
betrayed to her the fact that the heir-apparent had accepted her as a
consort solely on condition that his debts should be paid off. When
the Romans made a bargain they confirmed it by breaking a bit of
straw between them. This straw was called ‘stipula,’ and the Princess
Caroline was the bit of straw that was broken--the stipulation, in
fact, whereby it was agreed that if the Prince married the woman whom
he already detested his creditors should have satisfaction in full of
all demands!
Some of these were found heavy. There was a bill of 40,000_l._ to his
farrier! Bills like these were allowed. Not so an annuity of 1,400_l._
to Mrs. Crouch, the actress. The Parliament took a commercial view of
the matter and disallowed the claim, on the ground that no valuable
consideration had been given for the liability which the Prince had
voluntarily incurred. For the allowed debts, debentures payable
with interest were given, and the Prince immediately withdrew into
comparative retirement, in order, as Lord Moira stated in the House
of Lords, that he might be able to save enough to discharge certain
claims upon his honour. These claims were supposed to exist on the part
of the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel and the Duke of Orleans, from whom
the Prince had borrowed money. Perhaps they included the 10,000_l._
per annum which he had engaged himself to pay to Mrs. Fitzherbert,
whom he had settled in a superb mansion in Park Lane, and comforted
with assurances that his attentions to her would be as devoted now as
before his marriage! All this was an outrage on the poor bride, whom
the Prince took down to Windsor on a visit to the King and Queen. That
persons might not suppose this was a commencement of positive domestic
and virtuous life, the husband took with him his mistress, Lady Jersey.
The usual formality, which George III. loved, of visiting the public at
the theatre, was observed on this occasion, and a short time after the
royal marriage the wedded couple were accompanied to Covent Garden by
the whole of the royal family. They were very dully entertained with
the very worst of O’Keefe’s comedies, ‘Life’s Vagaries,’ in which two
cousins fall in love and marry; and so perhaps the piece was thought
appropriate. It was followed by ‘Windsor Castle,’ a _pièce d’occasion_
by Pearce, who brought together in it Edward III., Peleus, the Prince
of Wales, Minerva, Thetis, and the Countess of Kent. The last lady is
represented as expected at the castle; she is detained on her way by
an overflow of the Thames which threatens to drown her, and from which
she is rescued by the Prince of Wales; whereupon all the heathen gods
and goddesses are as much delighted as if they formed an Olympian Royal
Humane Society, and exhibit their ecstasy by dancing and singing. In
such wise were our rulers entertained when George III. was king.
Queen Charlotte had looked grimly cold upon the Princess, but she
gave an entertainment in honour of the event which made Caroline of
Brunswick a Princess of Wales. The locality was Frogmore, and the scene
was brilliant, except that the hostess looked, as Lord Malmesbury once
described her, ‘civil, but stiff,’ and her daughter-in-law superbly
dressed, and black as midnight.
Meanwhile, the Prince’s first wife, Mrs. Fitzherbert, was in sorrow.
Their honeymoon had not lasted long. The Prince had met Lady Jersey at
Brighton, and a letter from him, which was put into Mrs. Fitzherbert’s
hands at a dinner at the Duke of Clarence’s, where she had expected
to meet the Prince, satisfied her that all intimacy between them had
come to an end. From that time, according to what appears to be an
erroneous statement in the ‘Memoirs of Mrs. Fitzherbert,’ ‘she never
saw the Prince;’ and this interruption of their intimacy was followed
by his marriage with the Queen (Princess) Caroline, brought about, as
Mrs. Fitzherbert conceived, under the twofold influence of the pressure
of his debts on the mind of the Prince, and a wish on the part of Lady
Jersey to enlarge the royal establishment, in which she was to have an
important situation!