The queen continued to doze in a lethargic insensibility, with very short intervals, till the first day of August in the morning, when she expired in the fiftieth year of her age, and in the thirteenth of her reign. Anne Stuart, queen of Great Britain, was in her person of the middle size, well proportioned. Her hair was of the dark brown colour, her complexion ruddy; her features were regular, her countenance was rather round than oval, and her aspect more comely than majestic. Her voice was clear and melodious, and her presence engaging. Her capacity was naturally good, but not much cultivated by learning; nor did she exhibit any marks of extraordinary genius or personal ambition. She was certainly deficient in that vigour of mind by which a prince ought to preserve his independence, and avoid the snares and fetters of sycophants and favourites; but whatever her weakness in this particular might have been, the virtues of her heart were never called in question. She was a pattern of conjugal affection and fidelity, a tender mother, a warm friend, an indulgent mistress, a munificent patron, a mild and merciful princess, during whose reign no subject’s blood was shed for treason. She was zealously attached to the church of England from conviction rather than from prepossession, unaffectedly pious, just, charitable, and compassionate. She felt a mother’s fondness for her people, by whom she was universally beloved with a warmth of affection which even the prejudice of party could not abate. In a word, if she was not the greatest, she was certainly one of the best and most unblemished sovereigns that ever sat upon the throne of England, and well deserved the expressive, though simple epithet, of “The good queen Anne.”