Some years ago, the following letter was discovered in the secret archives of Hanover.[59] It was probably written by Caroline Matilda in the first days of her illness, when she had a presentiment of her death. When she was first attacked, she had said to her faithful valet--"Mantel, I am very ill, and fully believe I shall die." SIRE, In the most solemn hour of my life, I turn to you, my royal brother, to express my heart's thanks for all the kindness you have shown me during my whole life, and especially in my misfortune. I die willingly, for nothing holds me back--neither my youth, nor the pleasures which might await me, near or remote. How could life possess any charms for me, who am separated from all those I love--my husband, my children, and my relatives? I, who am myself a queen and of royal blood, have lived the most wretched life, and stand before the world an example that neither crown nor sceptre affords any protection against misfortune! But I die innocent--I write this with a trembling hand, and feeling death imminent--I am innocent! Oh, that it might please the Almighty to convince the world after my death, that I did not deserve any of the frightful accusations, by which the calumnies of my enemies stained my character, wounded my heart, traduced my honour, and trampled on my dignity! Sire! believe your dying sister, a queen, and even more, a Christian, who would gaze with terror on the other world, if her last confession were a falsehood. I die willingly: for the unhappy bless the tomb. But more than all else, and even than death, it pains me that not one of all those whom I loved in life, is standing by my dying bed, to grant me a last consolation by a pressure of the hand, or a glance of compassion, and to close my eyes in death. Still, I am not alone: God, the sole witness of my innocence, is looking down on my bed of agony, which causes me such sufferings. My guardian angel is hovering over me, and will soon guide me to the spot, where I shall be able to pray for my friends, and also for my persecutors. Farewell, then, my royal brother! May Heaven bless you, my husband--my children--England--Denmark--and the whole world! Permit my corpse to rest in the grave of my ancestors, and now the last, unspeakably long farewell from your unfortunate CAROLINE MATILDA. We have further and valuable testimony to the unstained memory of Queen Caroline Matilda in the following extract from Falckenskjold's "Memoirs:"-- In 1780, I had an opportunity at Hanover of forming the acquaintance of M. Roques, pastor of the French Protestant Church in Celle. One day, I spoke to him about Queen Caroline Matilda:--