[Original]
He says: "I had conversations with the Princess Caroline on the toilette, on cleanliness and on delicacy of speaking. On these points I endeavored, 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 to what was hid as what was seen. I knew she wore coarse petticoats, coarse chemises, and thread stockings, and these never well washed or changed often enough. I observed that a long toilet 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. I had another conversation with her on speaking slightingly to 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 every disrespectful word she uttered to her mother, who always showed the most tender affection for her. The princess felt 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, incapable of strong or lasting feelings. In some respects this may make her happier, but certainly not better."
At last news came that the fleet had arrived off Stade, and that was a signal for the mother and daughter to part. The duchess was affected to tears; but Caroline behaved with sense and propriety, and kept up her spirits all the way. Three days later the bridal party reached the coast, and embarked on board the "Jupiter," a fifty-gun ship, while the rest of the fleet poured forth a thundering salute.
One of the ladies selected to attend the bride was Mrs. Harcourt, who had met her at Hanover; the other was Lady Jersey, who awaited her in England. The squadron arrived off Yarmouth in due season; but a thick fog set in, and it was not until noon on Saturday, a week from the day of sailing, that they dropped anchor off Gravesend. The princess won the hearts of the officers and seamen by her cheerfulness and affability, which called forth the praise even of Lord Malmesbury.
On Sunday morning the bridal party was transferred to one of the royal yachts, and, after a pleasant sail, reached Greenwich at noon. Vast crowds had assembled to greet the princess, but not the bridegroom or any of his family. There was a delay of more than an hour, because the lady-in-waiting was behindhand, and had kept the carriages until she was ready. When she did at last arrive she turned up her nose at the costume of the princess, and behaved so rudely that Lord Malmesbury had to take her to task for it. This costume consisted of a muslin gown over a blue satin petticoat, with a black beaver hat, in which were blue and black plumes. Lady Jersey had brought a rich white satin frock and an elegant turban, which the bride was required to put on at the governor's house before proceeding to London.
The procession, consisting of two coaches, each drawn by six white horses, and escorted by a detachment of the prince's own regiment, then started, and the bride must have been somewhat surprised at the small greeting and applause she met by the way.
About half-past two she alighted at St. James's Palace, and was conducted to the rooms of the Duke of Cumberland, which had been prepared for her use. Then the windows were opened, and the princess stepped out upon the balcony to show herself to the crowd. Lord Malmesbury at once went for the prince, who, it must be admitted, had not shown much eagerness to behold the bride. How the poor stranger's heart must have fluttered at this moment, with none of her own countryfolk near to advise and guide her! She had not long to wait; for the prince soon appeared, and this is the report of the interview as given by the lord, whose duties were not yet over: "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 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 humor, 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, is he always like that? I find him very fat, and not at all like the picture he sent me.'" No wonder she was shocked at such treatment; it was a wretched beginning to her new life, and showed, even more plainly than she suspected, what her future treatment was to be.
Lord Malmesbury tried to mend matters as best he could, and stammered out a lame apology: "His royal highness was a good deal affected and flurried at this first meeting; but would be better by dinner-time." Of course the princess was not to be deceived by such an excuse, and embarrassed her companion by indulging in no end of uncomplimentary remarks. Relief came to him in the shape of a summons to wait upon the king at once.