Imagine being a queen in the eighteenth century and having to appear powerful, stable, healthy, and resilient at all times while hiding a pain that has afflicted you for years. Imagine enduring violent stomach pains that were ignored for so long and were so severe that they eventually led to the catastrophic rupture of an umbilical hernia. It was a rupture so devastating that it rapidly caused a fatal case of peritonitis, with parts of the intestine and fecal matter spilling directly into the abdominal cavity. You might think this sounds completely absurd, like some kind of terrifying nightmare from a work of fiction. It is not.
This was the actual life of Caroline of Ansbach, one of the most important and influential royal women in British history. Like many noblewomen of her era, she swallowed her immense pain and suffering in total silence in order to preserve her public image until the very end. She was a queen remembered by history for being as tough as nails. People who knew her remembered her profound stoicism, her remarkable composure, and her innate ability to remain entirely calm under pressure. Caroline of Ansbach was not born that way, but she had to become that person over time. The role she eventually came to embody was both her greatest triumph and, at the same time, her greatest curse.
Of German origin, as her surname clearly suggests, Caroline Wilhelmina was born on March 1st, 1683, in Ansbach, a very small town located in Bavaria, in what is now modern-day Germany, and which was then part of the vast Holy Roman Empire. Her childhood, despite being spent within the comfortable confines of a noble family, began in a dark, difficult, and tragic way. She lost both of her parents at a very young age. Her mother died of smallpox when Caroline was only three years old, while her father died of an illness we know very little about when she was just ten years old.
From that moment onward, Caroline was raised within the Ansbach family, particularly by her relatives. Fortunately, she also had an important figure by her side during this formative period. Someone supported her tremendously during those difficult years and would remain highly influential throughout her entire life. At the age of thirteen, she was invited by Sophia Charlotte of Brandenburg, who was essentially her half-sister, to join her court in Berlin. It was certainly a complicated and turbulent era. Prussia was constantly navigating a complex web of political possibilities and strategic alliances within a fragmented empire that was largely dominated by the Catholic Habsburgs. Sophia Charlotte, and later Caroline as well, attempted to promote a greater degree of tolerance within the Protestant world, rather than embracing a rigid and uncompromising dogma.
Unfortunately, the premature loss of her parents resulted in a fairly limited formal education for the young girl. It was certainly not the kind of grand education we are accustomed to seeing among the famous monarchs we often discuss on this channel. However, that modest education was greatly enriched by Sophia’s brilliant company and by her more open-minded, intellectual, and liberal outlook on the world. Together, they attended numerous sophisticated salons in Berlin, which were experiences that allowed Caroline to broaden her intellectual horizons considerably. It was here, in this stimulating environment, that her great passion for correspondence and writing began.
Today, we have access to a remarkable amount of historical material, including numerous letters written by the queen herself that provide countless intricate details about her life. Naturally, they tell us about the happy moments and the positive aspects of her existence. But because many of these were deeply personal letters written to people she trusted implicitly, they also reveal a much harsher reality. They often describe a series of debilitating symptoms that Caroline endured for many years, symptoms she concealed from almost everyone around her and that would eventually culminate in a truly terrible death.
By the time she reached the age when noblewomen were expected to marry, Caroline had already developed strong, independent opinions of her own. Between the ages of thirteen and seventeen, she firmly rejected two marriage proposals because of deep-seated religious differences. One of the most famous examples involved Charles of Austria, the future Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI. The marriage contract explicitly stated that after the wedding, she would be required to convert from Lutheranism to Catholicism. Caroline refused outright. She was a committed Protestant and would not compromise on that point for any worldly advantage.
At the same time, the British court was already looking ahead to what would eventually become the succession after Queen Anne of England. A Protestant successor was heavily preferred, and attention increasingly turned toward Prince George Augustus. Sophia Charlotte, unsurprisingly, highly recommended Caroline. Having heard about this potential bride, George traveled incognito in order to meet her in person. He was immediately impressed by her sharp intelligence, her physical beauty, and also by her views, which, as we have already mentioned, were open-minded, moderate, and not excessively rigid. These were qualities that were quite rare among royal figures of the period. Caroline, for her part, demonstrated a certain degree of political flexibility. She agreed to convert from Lutheranism to Calvinism, showing that she could also be politically compatible with the future British court.
The couple married happily in 1705, and somewhat unusually for the period, their first child did not arrive until two years later. Between 1705 and 1713, Caroline gave birth to eight children. Only one died in infancy, and their eldest son, Frederick Louis, became the family’s principal heir to the throne. In 1714, Queen Anne died, and George Louis became king. As a consequence, his son, George Augustus, and Caroline became the Prince and Princess of Wales. From that moment onward, the couple moved to St. James’s Palace, the traditional royal residence.
The transition was not an easy one. Moving from Germany to the British court represented a dramatic change, but Caroline adapted extremely well to her new environment. She worked tirelessly on her relationships, court alliances, and political connections. Fluent in both English and French, she brought a certain German precision to British court life, both in serious matters of state and in the more informal, social world of court society. The marriage itself seemed to function reasonably well. As we have already seen, the couple had been in remarkable harmony from their very first meeting, and this remained true for many years.
Unfortunately, George Augustus soon proved not to be exactly the man he had initially appeared to be. Almost immediately after their move to St. James’s Palace, he began a series of extramarital affairs, of which Caroline was certainly aware. In fact, surviving correspondence suggests something even more remarkable. Caroline pragmatically supervised many of these relationships herself, even going so far as to accept Henrietta Howard as George’s principal mistress in 1719, while also allowing her to remain within her household. This tells us a great deal about Caroline’s character. She preferred to preserve the public image of the royal couple and avoid scandals that might potentially damage their future.
Furthermore, and this is important if we want to understand how Caroline’s illness eventually reached such a catastrophic stage, George I’s court existed for many years without a queen. As a result, from the moment Caroline arrived at St. James’s Palace, many of the responsibilities normally associated with a queen effectively fell upon her shoulders. For this reason, it is very likely that over the years, Caroline felt increasingly compelled to hide the symptoms we are about to discuss. In her letters and private confidences, she occasionally mentioned them to her husband and to a select few trusted individuals, but because she was, in practice, fulfilling the role of a queen long before officially becoming one, she felt obligated to preserve the image of a strong woman, a pillar of stability. This would have devastating consequences.
Ignoring symptoms for years allowed the condition to worsen until it eventually revealed itself in all its violence. In letters and memoirs, Caroline is described as an extraordinary woman. Even before becoming queen, she carried herself like one. Her smile was said to be gentle, her voice rich and deep, and her gaze clear yet thoughtful. She also possessed what many contemporaries described as a regal memory. She remembered details, conversations, and people with remarkable precision. More importantly, she possessed extraordinary self-control. She was an expert at concealing her emotions, adapting herself to any situation and any company, and appearing whenever necessary different from what she truly felt.
The Georgian society in which she lived was nevertheless characterized by excesses, particularly when it came to food and drink. There was also a certain vulgarity in conversation, something that even the king himself often displayed. These behaviors were frequently disguised as entertainment, but in reality, they often consisted of cruel jokes, gossip, and petty acts of malice. Gambling was widespread, scandal was everywhere, and marriage vows were often treated with remarkable indifference. Caroline lived within this environment for decades, and it is worth asking whether it ultimately influenced her in a positive or negative way. Without a doubt, she was affected by some of these habits. She began eating excessively, and as a consequence, her abdomen gradually enlarged. Caroline also developed gout, particularly in her feet, and this caused significant mobility problems later in life.
The many letters that survived tell us that over the years, particularly after Caroline and George Augustus officially became king and queen following the death of George I, she increasingly suffered from stomach pain and intestinal problems. These were symptoms that she largely ignored. She did not discuss them with her ladies-in-waiting, nor did she openly speak about them at court. Instead, she confided only in a handful of extremely trusted correspondents, and occasionally in her husband. Her life as queen was an incredibly busy one. She was constantly occupied by political events, royal duties, court obligations, and family matters. Years passed while she continued to ignore these symptoms, and apparently, she never seriously consulted a court physician about them.
The situation worsened dramatically following her final pregnancy in 1724, when her youngest child was born. It is generally believed that this was the point at which the famous umbilical hernia that would eventually kill her first developed. By this stage, Caroline had undergone ten pregnancies over the course of roughly fifteen or sixteen years, and had given birth eight times. This inevitably placed enormous strain upon her abdomen. After years of repeated pregnancies, it is hardly surprising that her abdominal wall had become weakened, creating ideal conditions for the development of a hernia.
Considering everything we know about her personality, Caroline was deeply embarrassed by the physical problems she was beginning to experience. She felt uncomfortable discussing them, and as we have already seen, she was exceptionally skilled at concealing both her emotions and her weaknesses. There are certain clues that, with hindsight, help us better understand what was happening. For example, we know that she gradually began to dislike tight-fitting clothing around her waist and abdomen. She mentioned this to members of her household. In previous years, she had never objected to the restrictive fashions expected of royal women, but after her final pregnancy, she developed a strong dislike for garments that pressed against her midsection. Today, looking back, it is difficult not to see this as a warning sign.
It is also worth mentioning that several sources state that the king strongly disliked having sick people around him. This may be another reason why Caroline concealed her condition for so long. In fact, George sometimes interpreted signs of fatigue or weakness as deliberate attempts to annoy him. As a result, Caroline often chose to endure her suffering rather than risk allowing him to suspect that something was seriously wrong.
Nevertheless, her life as queen continued, balancing pain and duty in equal measure. Some historians have even joked that alongside her gout, obesity, and hernia, Caroline suffered from another illness entirely: an almost pathological devotion to her husband. It was a condition that encouraged silence, a condition that made her hide discomfort rather than speak about it, that pushed her to suffer quietly in order to keep her husband comfortable and at ease. It was only when the king happened to be away that Caroline occasionally relaxed her guard and spoke more openly with her physicians.
Then came 1737. More specifically, November 9th. Historical sources tell us that during a reception, Caroline suddenly experienced a violent and deep pain in her abdomen. For a woman renowned for her stoicism, what happened next was extraordinary. She was unable to finish the event. The pain was so severe that she withdrew to her private apartments and went to bed. At that moment, the condition she had concealed for years began to reveal itself. It was becoming almost impossible to hide. Caroline had never been known to leave a reception early, and the finest physicians in the kingdom were immediately summoned around her.
From that point onward, the episodes continued. Her gout worsened to such an extent that she frequently had to be carried into reception rooms in a chair because she was often unable to stand for long periods. And it was at this stage that the full extent of her illness finally began to emerge. At this point, Caroline was, of course, examined by the physicians available to her, though with all the limitations of eighteenth-century medicine. As was often the case, the doctors attending her came from different backgrounds, different countries, and different schools of thought, which meant they frequently disagreed with one another. As a result, Caroline was subjected to a wide variety of treatments as they attempted to determine what might help her condition.
We know that she was bled repeatedly, as was standard medical practice at the time. She was purged just as often, and we also know that she eventually had to endure abdominal surgery without the slightest form of anesthesia because none existed, just as there were no effective painkillers. Here was one of the most intelligent and influential women in Europe, a queen who held enormous political influence, and yet she was completely powerless before the limitations of eighteenth-century medicine. Perhaps that is one of the most tragic aspects of her story.
When the surgeons operated on her, contemporary records state that they discovered a section of intestine that had become diseased and gangrenous. The tissue was described as blackened, infected, and decaying. What is even more alarming is the way these reports describe the condition. Using the medical terminology available at the time, they recorded that part of the intestine had pushed through the muscular wall of the abdomen and was protruding outward.
It is important to remember that this was not the Middle Ages. By the Georgian period, medicine had made some progress compared to the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. Institutions such as the Royal Society had published medical observations and recommendations based on growing scientific inquiry and numerous experiments. According to the medical understanding of the time, conditions such as the one affecting Caroline were generally supposed to be treated without making large incisions. The accepted approach was to reposition the displaced section of intestine and return it to its proper location. Yet, for reasons that remain unclear, despite being attended by some of the most respected surgeons of the age, Caroline was subjected to an incision that went against those recommendations.
Even more disturbing is what followed. After that first operation, the procedures continued. We do not know exactly how many times she underwent further interventions, but the records suggest that she was repeatedly opened, operated upon, and stitched back together by her physicians. As we can imagine, these operations achieved very little. Her condition failed to improve.
Remarkably, however, Caroline continued to maintain a surprisingly positive demeanor between procedures. Whether she genuinely felt optimistic or was simply hiding her true feelings is impossible to know. What we do know is that she remained consistent with the personality she had displayed throughout her life. She was not a queen who complained. Several accounts report that she frequently joked with her doctors. During procedures, she sometimes made humorous remarks. One story that appears in the correspondence of the period is particularly memorable. During one of her many operations, a physician’s wig accidentally caught fire after coming into contact with a candle. The incident was so absurd that Caroline burst into laughter. The doctors themselves reported they began laughing as well, and the procedure had to be paused while everyone regained their composure.
Unfortunately, what we know today is that the first major incision performed by her physicians likely destroyed whatever chance she may have had of recovering. It was a procedure that had been discouraged, yet it was carried out anyway. With that operation, any realistic hope of healing seems to have disappeared. Between doses of brandy, water, and various remedies, Caroline gradually reached a point where she could no longer keep anything down. Her body was exhausted and in complete turmoil. From the day of the operation onward, an irreversible decline began.
Rumors started spreading through the corridors of the palace. About a week after the procedure, on a Saturday, the queen’s condition began worsening almost hour by hour. Yet even then, she continued to reassure her increasingly worried husband that she was not seriously ill. She denied her suffering until the very end. At one point, George told her that he feared she might have suffered a rupture of the intestines. Caroline responded warmly, insisting that nothing of the sort had happened, and that she felt perfectly well.
Another operation followed. Convinced that his wife was concealing the truth, the king summoned two additional court surgeons. Once again, they decided to operate, and Caroline, with the same devotion she had shown throughout her marriage, quietly consented. She endured a difficult night. By the following morning, she complained that the wound itself was causing severe pain. The surgeons were called once again and examined the area, only to discover that it was beginning to decompose and turn gangrenous. The news reached the king immediately.
At this point, George genuinely feared that the queen might die at any moment. He hurried to her bedside and brought their children with him. What followed was, in many ways, a family farewell. By now, the reality of Caroline’s condition could no longer be hidden. It was obvious to every member of the royal household and every person at court. For perhaps the first time in her life, the queen stood emotionally exposed before her family. There were tears, there were sobs, and there was a growing realization among everyone present that the end was approaching. At one point, Caroline removed her ring and handed it back to her husband, a gesture that left a profound impression on those present. Whatever the exact words, the moment clearly affected George deeply. For perhaps the first time, he fully realized that he was losing the one person who had truly loved him throughout his life, and who had done so with a devotion that was almost limitless.
After this emotional scene, the queen fell into a deep sleep. Many believed she would never wake again. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, she eventually opened her eyes and even claimed to feel somewhat better. She went so far as to predict that she would survive until Wednesday, because all the great events of her life had happened on that day. She had been born on a Wednesday, married on a Wednesday, and had given birth to her first child on a Wednesday. The wound was examined once again, and the physicians observed that the gangrene appeared to remain confined to a relatively limited area. This gave them a small measure of hope. Perhaps, they thought, she might still recover.
Monday and Tuesday passed without major developments. The Queen remained relatively stable. Wednesday also came and went, and contrary to her own prediction, it was not the day she died.
Then came Thursday. Her condition deteriorated once again. This time she suffered tremendously, yet even now she endured everything without complaint. Her patience and courage throughout these final days were truly extraordinary. Between one bleeding and the next, she remained calm, composed, and remarkably lucid. In fact, it was not the Queen who appeared to be collapsing under the strain, but rather her husband. George was becoming increasingly overwhelmed. He complained constantly, struggled to sleep, and displayed what appears to have been genuine grief.
Unlike Caroline, he was not someone who suffered in silence. During these difficult days, he spoke incessantly about her virtues, her intelligence, and the immense loss her death would represent not only for him personally, but also for the nation. At the same time, however, traces of his usual temperament never entirely disappeared. There were moments when he interrupted Caroline while she was speaking, correcting or reprimanding her with the same irritability he had often shown throughout their marriage. For example, during this period, Caroline occasionally admitted that she was unable to sleep because the pain had become unbearable. Even then, George did not always respond with the sympathy one might expect, yet her devotion to him never wavered.
The physicians repeatedly insisted that she needed as much rest as possible. George, meanwhile, constantly urged her to drink whatever remedy was brought into the room. The Queen obeyed every request. More often than not, she vomited almost immediately because her digestive system was by now severely damaged. Still, after a short while, she would try again. The days continued to pass. At times, Caroline almost seemed apologetic for the suffering her illness was causing those around her. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed without any dramatic changes.
On Sunday, her condition suffered a significant decline. It was November the 20th, 1737, the eleventh day since the intestinal rupture. At around ten o’clock in the evening, the end came quietly. There was no dramatic final struggle, no sudden commotion. Death arrived almost silently. The King was beside her when the moment came. When he realized that she was gone, he was overcome with grief. He kissed her face, her hands, and the body of the Queen who had shared his life for more than three decades.
In many ways, Caroline’s death was the result of a surgical condition that had been ignored and mishandled for a variety of reasons. Part of the blame undoubtedly lies with the medical limitations of the period. Eighteenth-century medicine simply lacked the knowledge necessary to deal effectively with a condition like hers, but there were other factors as well. There were the expectations of court life and the pressure placed upon royal women. And there was Caroline’s own personality: a woman of extraordinary resilience, deeply devoted to her husband and to her duties, who spent years concealing symptoms rather than acknowledging them.
Eventually, the hernia ruptured. The intestine perforated. Foul-smelling intestinal fluid and infectious material spilled into the abdominal cavity and, according to contemporary accounts, into the royal bed itself. At that point, the condition could no longer be ignored. It was already far too late.
Caroline of Ansbach died at the age of fifty-four, surrounded by her family, at least during the final moments of her life. Her funeral took place on December the 17th, 1737, at Westminster Abbey. One final request she had made perfectly reflected her character. She wanted the ceremony to be simple and modest. Surprisingly, the king respected her wishes. Before the funeral, as tradition required, the Queen’s body was placed in a lead coffin and displayed so that members of the royal household and family could pay their final respects. A long procession accompanied the funeral rites, and she was ultimately buried in the Chapel of Henry VII within Westminster Abbey.
George remained inconsolable for many months after her death. The loss affected him profoundly, even if his behavior during her lifetime does not always make that obvious. Thirty-three years later, he finally joined her. And in what may have been his last great gesture toward the woman whose devotion he had never fully repaid, he ordered that upon his death, the side of Caroline’s tomb be removed. The intention was simple. Just as they had lain side by side in life, their remains would rest side by side in death. No barrier would separate them, not even the grave.
