and Marie Antoinette had now reached the pinnacle of human greatness, as sovereigns of one of the noblest empires in the world.

Yet the first feelings which their elevation had excited in both, and especially in the queen, were rather those of dismay and perplexity than of exultation.

In the preceding autumn, Mercy[1] had remarked to the empress, with surprise and vexation, that, though the dauphiness exhibited singular readiness and acuteness in comprehending political questions, she was very unwilling, and, as it seemed to him, afraid of dealing with them, and that she shrunk from the thought that the day would come when she must possess power and authority.

And the continuance of this feeling is visible in her first letter to her mother, some passages of which show a sobriety of mind under such a change of circumstances, which, almost as much as the benevolence which the letter also displays, augured well for the happiness of the people over whom she was to reign, so far at least as that happiness depended on the virtues of the sovereign.
"Choisy, May 14th.
"My Dearest Mother,--Mercy will have informed you of the circumstances of our misfortune.

Happily his cruel disease left the king in possession of his senses till the last moment, and his end was very edifying.