majesty of
the king is one essential foundation.

"I do not know if, independently of all other reasons, the king will not
find in that feeling and in the inclinations of the nation, when it has
recovered its calmness, more deference, and a temper more favorable to
him, than he could expect from the majority of those Frenchmen who are at
present out of the kingdom.[7]"

And a letter which she wrote to Mercy a fortnight later is perhaps even
more worthy of attention, as supplying abundant proof, if proof were
needed, of the good-will and good faith which were the leading principles
of herself and the king in all their dealings with the Assembly. Since her
letter to her brother, matters had been proceeding rapidly. She had found
some means of treating more directly than on any previous occasion, not
only with Barnave, but with the far more unscrupulous A. Lameth; and the
Assembly had made such progress in completing the Constitution that it was
on the point of submitting it to the king for his acceptance. We have seen
in Marie Antoinette's letter to the emperor that she was convinced of the
necessity of Louis signifying that acceptance, and she adhered to that
view of the policy to be pursued, though the last touches given to the
Constitution had rendered many of its articles far more unreasonable than
she had anticipated, and though the great English statesman, Burke, whose
"Reflections" of the preceding year had naturally caused him to be
regarded as one of the ablest advisers on whom she could rely, forwarded
to her an earnest exhortation to induce her husband to reject it. He
implored her "to have nothing to do with traitors." Using the argument
which, to one so sensitive for her honor as Marie Antoinette, was well
calculated to exert an almost irresistible influence over her mind, he
declared that "her resolution at this most critical moment was to decide
whether her glory was to be maintained, and her distresses to cease, or
whether" (and he begged pardon for ever mentioning such an alternative)
"shame and affliction were to be her portion for the rest of her life;"
and he declared that "if the king should accept the Constitution, both
king and queen were ruined forever."

The great writer was, as in more than one other instance of his career,
too earnest in his conviction that principles were at stake in the course
which he recommended, to consider whether that course were safe for those
on whom he urged it, or