But the Duchess was most eloquent upon the projected marriage, the virtues of her daughter, and the care which had been taken, by precept and example, to establish such virtues in Caroline. The Duchess had very excellent ideas as to the duties of a mother-in-law, as appears from her expressed resolution never to interfere in the household of the newly-married royal couple. Indeed the idea of visiting England at all was odious to her. If she were to repair thither, she was sure, she said, that her visit would result in discomfort to herself, and a jealousy and vexation excited against her in the hearts of others. Poor lady, she did not foresee that a dozen years later she would be a fugitive from Brunswick, seeking an asylum in England, after forty years’ absence.
The Duchess affected to treat the marriage of her daughter with the Prince of Wales as perfectly unexpected by her, but as she added that ‘she never could give the idea to Caroline’ we may fairly suppose that the thought of such a thing being possible had really entered for a moment into her own mind. George III., however, had been accustomed to speak disapprovingly of the marriage of cousins-german, and with good reason. It is only to be regretted that he did not act in accordance with his own expressed opinions on this point. It may be noted as a strange fact that the prelate who performed the marriage ceremony which made of the two cousins, so closely akin by blood, man and wife, would have been very much shocked had he been asked to do the same office for a man about to marry the sister of his deceased wife, and with whom he had not the slightest blood relationship.
The Duchess, as has already been remarked, spoke of her brother, George III., as having more amiability than intellect. If amiability mean the power of loving others, she very much qualified the remark by observing that ‘he loved her very much, as well as he could love anybody;’ an equivocal phrase, which is made clear enough by the context; for the Duchess added, that her long absence, and his thirty years of intercourse with Queen Charlotte, had caused him to forget the sister whom he loved as much as he could love anybody.
The court of this Duchess, who had been so anxious to make of virtue a fixed possession for her daughter, was not a court where virtue itself was a fixed resident. The mistress of the Duke was quite as important a lady there as the Duchess; and yet the lady herself, or one of those who held the post which was shared by many, had the sense to be a trifle ashamed of her position. Her name was Hertzfeldt. She had ennobled the name by putting a de before it, but she had not dared upon the prefix of the Teutonic von. Lord Malmesbury thus notices her. ‘In the evening with Mademoiselle de Hertzfeldt—old Berlin acquaintance, Duke’s mistress—much altered, but still clear and agreeable; full of lamentations and fears; her apartments elegantly furnished, and she herself with all the appareil of her situation; she was at first rather ashamed to see me, but she soon got over it.’
Mademoiselle de Hertzfeldt, too, was among those who were anxious that the Princess Caroline should be worthy of the position now open to her. This was a strange entourage for the bride; and there were both strange people and strange things at this ducal court. Some of the names of the officials and residents call up memories of the past. There was a Count von Schulemberg among the former. We hear also of a Herr von Walmoden, the son of that ‘Master Louis’ whose mother was the ‘Walmoden’ of whom George II. made a Countess of Yarmouth, and whose father was that royal sovereign himself. There was also an exemplary couple in the court circle, Herr and Frau von Waggenheim, of whom indeed little is said, save that the gentleman drank, and that the lady thought the example worth following. This was but an indifferent place from which to select a future Queen of England; but, depraved as the court was, there were others more so, from which, nevertheless, princesses had gone to be honoured wives and virtuous matrons in other circles.
The ducal family were never so well pleased as when they could get the envoy from the bridegroom in one of their own little coteries, and there it was the delight of the Duchess to make much of him, and inundate him with stories of bygone times. She was particularly pleased to tell anything disparaging of Queen Charlotte. That her brother, King George, had, on her marriage, presented her with a handsome diamond ring as a wedding gift. This generosity rendered the Queen peevish and jealous, and her Majesty is said to have actually wished that the gift should be recalled and conferred upon herself. In such tales the Duchess delighted, and she had an attentive listener.
To him she further told that the King had proposed to many one of his daughters to her favourite son, Charles; requiring only that he should first pay a visit to England, a course to which she strongly objected, and apparently for very efficient reasons—‘she was quite sure, if he was to show himself, none of the Princesses would have him.’
On the 3rd of December these very small matters were varied by the arrival of Major Hislop, who brought with him the portrait of the royal bridegroom, and a private letter to Lord Malmesbury, urging him ‘most vehemently to set out with the Princess Caroline immediately’.
And thereupon, on the 8th of December 1794, followed the marriage, whereat the vehement lover appeared only by proxy. All parties behaved with due decorum. The paternal and warrior Duke, a man infirm of purpose, was rather embarrassed, but performed his office with dignity. The Duchess was of course overcome, and shed tears. The bride herself was affected, as maiden well might be, at a rite which took her from a home where she had, latterly, enjoyed the highest freedom, and which flung her on the bosom of a husband whose arms were scarcely opened to receive than they were raised to reject her.
The wedding-day was spent in a remarkably comfortable style of celebration. First, after the ceremony, there was an early and an ‘immense’ dinner. Then a grand court was held, at which felicitations were made to the new Princess of Wales. This was followed by grave whist for the older aristocrats, and gayer games for the younger people, addicted to more liveliness. Last of all came a great supper, but how the terrible meal was got through the court historians do not say. We only learn that during the progress of the banquet Lord Malmesbury informed the Duke of Brunswick of the nature of the contents of the Prince’s letter, and the wish therein expressed so vehemently for his instant departure with the impatiently-expected bride. He of course supposed that the Duke would at once appoint a day for the solemn departure. But the sovereign of Brunswick was not a man who liked to compromise himself. He accordingly answered oracularly: ‘We depend entirely on you, my lord; you cannot possibly decide in a wrong way.’ It was leaving Lord Malmesbury ample powers, of which he was anxious to avail himself; but he had much to do with and for the bride before he led her safely to the asylum of her husband’s cold hearth.