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.