"I was summoned almost daily by that princess," he said to me, "either to read or converse with her, and most frequently to obtain information relative to the poor of my parish. I visited her more constantly during the last days of her life, and I was near her a little before she drew her last breath. Although very weak, she retained her presence of mind. After I had recited the prayers for the dying, she said to me, in a voice which seemed to become more animated: "_M. Roques, I am about to appear before_ GOD: _I protest that I am innocent of the crimes imputed against me, and that I was never faithless to my husband_." M. Roques added, that the queen had never spoken to him, even indirectly, of the accusations brought against her. I wrote down on the same day (March 7, 1780) what M. Roques said to me, as coming from a man distinguished by his integrity of character. Such is everything that can be learned of the death of Caroline Matilda. Sacrificed in the first bloom of youth, and decked with the fillets of misery, she was sent, an inexperienced victim, to become the bride of a man who was a compound of insanity and brutality. In less than seven years she experienced all the honours, but also all the wretchedness, which a royal throne can offer. Then she died in the flower of life in exile, the victim of the most scandalous conspiracy. Several descriptions of Caroline Matilda were written at the period of her death in England--among others, one in the "Annual Register," by my grandfather. From among them I have selected the one I consider the best, which first appeared in the "Universal Magazine" for May, 1775:-- * * * * *