immediately afterward left Versailles with all the family.

Louis XVI. 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. The new
king seems to have the affection of his people. Two days before the death
of his grandfather, he sent two hundred thousand[2] francs to the poor,
which has produced a great effect. Since he has been here, he has been
working unceasingly, answering with his own hand the letters of the
ministers, whom as yet he can not see, and many others likewise. One thing
is certain, and that is that he has a taste for economy, and the greatest
desire possible to make his people happy. In every thing he has as great a