CAROLINE. QUEEN OF GEORGE II. CAROLINE WILHELMINA was the daughter of the margrave of Anspach, and was born in 1683. She lost her father when very young, and her mother, a princess of the house of Eysenbach, marrying afterwards the elector of Saxony, the young Caroline was confided to the guardianship of Frederick of Brandenburg, subsequently king of Prussia, and derived the inestimable advantage of receiving her education under the superintendence of her aunt, his wife, the accomplished Sophia Charlotte, sister of George the First. No less amiable than intellectually gifted, the queen of Prussia was honored and beloved for her patronage of literature, science, and art; and her death, when only thirty-seven, was universally lamented. This melancholy event occurred in 1705, the same year in which her niece gave her hand to George, then electoral prince of Hanover. There is no doubt the electoral prince was as truly and warmly attached to his bride as it was possible for a nature essentially coarse and phlegmatic to be; and abundant evidence also proves that his affection increased with years, as did her influence over his mind and actions. Caroline must have been eminently discreet in her conduct, or she could not have steered her difficult course as she did, through the different cabals which began early in her married life. Long before the acces sion of George the First, the misunderstanding between him and his son took place, originating, probably, from several causes, not the least being that the electoral prince doted on his mother, the unfortunate Sophia of Zell. On the accession of George the Second to the throne, it was the influence of Caroline which retained sir Robert Walpole in office. The king had inclined towards sir Spencer Compton, "who, so far from meditating to supplant the premier, had recourse to sir Robert, and besought him to prepare the draught of the king's speech. The new queen, a better judge than her husband of the capacities of the two candidates, and who had silently watched for a moment proper for overturning the new designations, did not lose a moment in observing to the king, "how prejudicial it would be to his affairs to prefer to the minister in possession, a man in whose own judgment his predecessor was the fittest person to execute his office." . The queen also took another opportunity of declaring her sentiments. Walpole says, "Their majesties had removed from Richmond to their temporary residence in Leicester Fields, on the very evening of their receiving notice of their accession to the crown, and the next day all the nobility and gentry in the town crowded to kiss their hands, my mother among the rest, who, sir Spencer Compton's designation, and not its evaporation, being known, could not make her way between the scornful backs and elbows of her late devotees, nor could approach nearer to the queen than the third or fourth row; but no sooner was she descried by her majesty, than the queen said aloud, 'There I am sure I see a friend.' The torrent divided and shrunk to either side; 'and as I came away,' said my mother, 'I might have walked over their heads if I had pleased.' It may be that the penetration of Walpole early discovered that influence really lay with the queen, and that he paid his court accordingly; or some more honorable feeling may have originated the cordiality between them. Caroline appears to have taken great pleasure in the society of sir Robert and lady Walpole, and frequently dined at their house at Chelsea. On these occasions, however, the rigor of etiquette was maintained. Sir Robert did not sit down to table with his royal guest, but stood behind her chair, and gave her the first plate, and then retired himself to a separate table." Lady Walpole took her seat at table in company with the lady-in-waiting; but when we call to mind that in those days it was esteemed the indispensable duty of a hostess to carve, the exception in her favor may perhaps be explained! Caroline had been esteemed handsome in her youth; but her beauty was subsequently marred by that pitiless scourge, the small-pox, and later in life an exceeding stoutness destroyed the symmetry of her figure. Her hand and arm were greatly admired for their whiteness and beauty of form, and her countenance is reported to have had that best beauty, the beauty of expression. A poet has lauded her smile as "celestial." She must have been a good conversationist, possessing the rare and delicate tact of adapting her discourse to the character and acquirements of those she addressed. At her toilette, "learned men and divines were intermixed with courtiers and ladies of the household, and the conversation turned on metaphysical subjects, blended with repar tees, sallies of mirth, and the tittle-tattle of the drawing-room." She corresponded with Leibnitz, and delighted in abstract science. Caroline was the friend and patroness of many celebrated divines and men of learning. Her intercession saved the life of the unfortunate Richard Savage, when condemned to death for the life he took in a tavern brawl; she settled an annuity of fifty pounds upon him, which was withdrawn after her death. Her death took place on the 20th of November, 1737. The queen had suffered for years from a painful and dangerous disease, unwisely concealing her calamity from her physicians, who, had they known the truth, might have alleviated her anguish. It is difficult to reconcile with her general behavior, her refusal to see Frederick, prince of Wales, on her death-bed. In his youth she had shielded him, on many occasions, from the anger of his father; and in later years it is remarkable that, while his letters to the king were full of all the deferential expressions due to majesty, those to the queen abounded in the simpler words "madame," and "vous;" a familiarity that seems to tell of freedom and affection between them, rather than of want of respect. Nevertheless she refused him admission on that last awful occasion, though she sent him her blessing and forgiveness. Perhaps the mind of the poor queen-helpless and suffering in the last dread hour, as the meanest of her subjects-wandered in its judgment. Certain it is, also, that she died without receiving the last sacrament. Whether con fused by her controversial readings, she hesitated, or whether archbishop Potter desired her personal reconciliation with the prince her son, is not known; but the prelate had a wily answer ready to meet all questioners. When a crowd eagerly asked, "Has the queen communicated?" he replied, evading a direct denial, "Her majesty is in a most heavenly disposition." With the death of the queen the king soon surrounded himself with fresh faces, and probably forgot the superior woman with whom he had been associated, in the society of his new and acknowledged favorite. A number of laudatory effusions appeared after the death of Caroline, but not one of sufficient poetical merit to deserve a re-appearance in modern type. But a few lines may be admitted from the eulogy of Stephen Duck, which was probably a sincere tribute of gratitude. With not a hundredth part of the talent of Burns, and of birth still more obscure, the self-taught versifier, the humble "thresher," found friends and patrons, and royalty at their head, to give him that help, a tithe of which, bestowed upon the Ayrshire Bard, might have enriched our literature beyond all conjecture, and rendered his life honorable and happy. Yet the thresher's fate points its moral most tragically. Conscious at last that his powers were less than the world believed, existence grew intolerable, and poor Stephen drowned himself in a fit of despond. ency: "In every state her goodness has been proved, Nor fewer charms adorn her private life, The tenderest mother, most submissive wife; By honor, duty, love and virtue swayed; In virtue's path she constantly proceeds, By virtue's rule she measures all her deeds." |