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CALVERT OF STRATHMORE

THE LEGATION AT PARIS

There seemed to be some unusual commotion, a suppressed excitement, about the new and stately American Legation at Paris on the morning of the 3d of February in the year of grace 1789. The handsome mansion at the corner of the Grande Route des Champs Elys?es and the rue Neuve de Berry, which had lately belonged to Monsieur le Comte de l'Avongeac and in which Mr. Jefferson had installed himself as accredited minister to France after the return of Dr. Franklin to America, presented an appearance different from its usual quiet.

Across the courtyard, covered with snow fallen during the might, which glittered and sparkled in the brilliant wintry sunshine, grooms and stable-boys hurried between ?curies and remises, currying Mr. Jefferson's horses and sponging off Mr. Jefferson's handsome carriage, with which he had provided himself on setting up his establishment as minister of the infant federation of States to the court of the sixteenth Louis. At the porter's lodge that functionary frequently left his little room, with its brazier of glowing coals, and walked up and down beneath the porte-coch?re, flapping his arms vigorously in the biting wintry air, and glancing between the bars of the great outer gate up and down the road as if on the lookout for some person or persons. In the hotel itself, servants moved quickly and quietly about, setting everything in the most perfect order.

At one of the windows which gave upon the extensive gardens, covered, like all else, with the freshly fallen snow, Mr. Jefferson himself could now and then be seen as he moved restlessly about the small, octagonal room, lined with books and littered with papers, in which he conducted most of his official business. A letter, just finished, lay upon his desk. 'Twas to his daughter in her convent of Panthemont, and full of that good advice which no one ever knew how to give better than he. The letter being folded and despatched by a servant, Mr. Jefferson was at liberty to indulge his restless mood. This he did, walking up and down with his hands clasped behind his back, as was his fashion; but, in spite of the impatience of his manner, a smile, as of some secret contentment or happy anticipation, played about his lips. At frequent intervals he would station himself at one of the windows which commanded the entrance of the hotel, and, looking anxiously out at the wintry scene, would consult the splendid new watch just made for him, at great cost, by Monsieur l'Epine.

It was on the stroke of twelve by Monsieur l'Epine's watch when Mr. Jefferson, gazing out of the window for the twentieth time that morning of February 3d, saw a large travelling berline turn in at the big grille and draw up under the porte-coch?re in front of the porter's lodge. In an instant he was out of the room, down the great stairway, and at the entrance of the rez-de-chauss?e, just as the postilion, dismounting, opened the door of the carriage from which emerged a large, handsome man of about thirty-five or six, who moved with surprising agility considering the fact that he boasted but one good leg, the other member being merely a wooden stump. He was followed by a younger man, who sprang out and waited respectfully, but eagerly, until Mr. Jefferson had welcomed his companion.

"Mr. Morris!--my dear sir! welcome to Paris! welcome to this little spot of America!" said Mr. Jefferson, shaking the older man cordially by the hand again and again and drawing him toward the open door. And then passing quickly out upon the step to where the young man still stood looking on at this greeting, Mr. Jefferson laid a hand affectionately on his shoulder and looked into the young eyes.

"My dear boy, my dear Calvert!" he exclaimed with emotion, "I cannot tell you how welcome you are, nor how I thank you for obeying my request to come to me!"

"The kindest command I could have received, sir," replied the young man, much moved by Mr. Jefferson's affectionate words and manner.

Turning, and linking an arm in that of each of his guests, Mr. Jefferson led them into the house, followed by the servants carrying their travelling things.

"Ah! we will bring back Virginia days in the midst of this turbulent, mad Paris. 'Tis a wild, bad place I have brought you to, Ned," he said, turning to the young gentleman, "but it must all end in good--surely, surely." Mr. Jefferson's happy mood seemed suddenly to cloud over, and he spoke absently and almost as if reassuring himself. "But come," he added, brightening up, "I will not talk of such things before we are fairly in the house! Welcome again, Mr. Morris! Welcome, Mr. Secretary!"--he turned to Calvert--"It seems strange, but most delightful, to have you here." Talking in such fashion, he hurried them up the great stairway as fast as Mr. Morris's wooden leg would permit, and into his private study.

"Ha! a fire!" said Mr. Morris, sinking down luxuriously in a chair before the blazing logs. "I had almost forgot what the sight of one was like, and I was beginning to wish that this"--he looked down and tapped his sound leg, laughing a little whimsically, "were wood, too. I would have suffered less with the cold!"

"I am sure you must have had a bitter journey from Havre," rejoined Mr. Jefferson. "'Tis the coldest winter France has known for eighty years--the hardest, cruellest winter the poor of this great city, of this great country, can remember. Would to God it were over and the spring here!"

"I should imagine that it had not been any too pleasant even for the rich," said Mr. Morris, shivering slightly. But Mr. Jefferson paid no attention to the sufferings of the rich suggested by Mr. Morris, and only stirred the blazing logs uneasily.

"At any rate it serves to make our welcome here seem the warmer, sir," said Calvert, from where he stood divesting himself of his many-caped top-coat.

"Ah! that is spoken like you, Ned! But stand forth, sir! Let me see if you are changed, if four years at the College of Princeton have made another fellow of my old Calvert of Strathore." He went over to the young man and drew him into the middle of the room, where the cold, brilliant sunshine struck full on the fine young face. There was no shadow or line upon it.

"You are much grown," said Mr. Jefferson, thoughtfully, "much taller, but 'tis the same slender, athletic figure, and the eyes and brow and mouth are not changed, thank God!"

"Is there no improvement, sir? Can you note no change for the better?" said Calvert, laughing, and attempting to cover his embarrassment, at the close scrutiny he was undergoing. "But I fear not. I fear my college life has left as little impress on my mind as on my body. I shall never be a scholar like you, sir," he added, with a sigh.

"And yet, in spite of your disinclination to study, you have gone through college, and most creditably. Dr. Witherspoon himself has written me of your career. Does that say nothing in your favor?"

"To be sure it does," broke in Mr. Morris, laughing. "There is no merit in being a scholar like Mr. Jefferson here, who was born a student. He couldn't have helped being a scholar if he had tried. But for you, Mr. Calvert, who dislike study, to have made yourself stick to the college curriculum for four years, I consider a great and meritorious achievement!"

"I agree with you entirely, Mr. Morris," said Mr. Jefferson, joining in the laugh, "and as for that, Ned has done more than merely stick to the curriculum of the college. Dr. Witherspoon, in writing me of his progress, was pleased to say many complimentary things of several excursions into verse which he has made. He especially commended his lines on 'A View of Princeton College,' written something after the manner of Mr. Gray's 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.'"

"I agree with you again, Mr. Morris," said that gentleman, laughing heartily, "and I think that you and I would have made no such mistake at Ned's age," and he sighed a little as he thought of the gay pleasures of his own youth, the dances and walks and talks with "Belinda," and his poetic effusions to her and many another.

"Nor even at our own," objected Mr. Morris. "I assure you I feel myself quite capable of composing verses to fair ones yet, Mr. Jefferson." And indeed he was, and rhymed his way gayly to the heart of many a lady in the days to come.

As for Calvert, he only smiled at the light banter at his expense, scarcely understanding it, indeed, for as yet he carried a singularly untouched heart about in his healthy young body.

Mr. Morris arose: "I must be going," he said. "I have sent my things on to the Hotel de Richelieu--" but Mr. Jefferson pressed him back into his seat.

"You are my guest for the day," he declared, interrupting him, "and must take your first breakfast with Ned and myself here at the Legation. I will send you around to the rue de Richelieu in my carriage later on. I have a thousand questions to ask you. I must have all the news from America--how fares General Washington, and my friend, James Madison, and pretty Miss Molly Crenshawe?--there's a lovely woman for you, Ned, in the bud, 'tis true, but likely to blossom into a perfect rose. There is but one beauty in all Paris to compare with her, I think. And that is the sister of your old friend d'Azay. And what does Patrick Henry and Pendleton these days? I hear that Hamilton holds strange views about the finances and has spoken of them freely in Congress. What are they? My letters give me no details as yet." And more and more questions during the abundant breakfast which had been spread for them in the morning-room adjoining Mr. Jefferson's library. Now it was a broadside of inquiries aimed at Mr. Gouverneur Morris concerning the newly adopted Constitution which he had helped fashion for the infant union of States and the chances of electing General Washington as first president of that union; now it was question after question regarding Dr. Franklin's reception in America on his return from France and release from his arduous duties and the vexatious persecutions to which he had been subjected by his former colleagues--the most outrageous and unprovoked that ever man suffered--and there were endless inquiries about personal, friends, about the currency in America, and about the feeling of security and tranquillity of the States.

The breakfast, generous as it was, was over long before Mr. Jefferson had tired of his questioning, and they were still sitting around the table talking when a visitor was announced. It was Monsieur le Vicomte de Beaufort, Lafayette's young kinsman and officer in the American war, who came in directly, bowing to Mr. Morris, whom he had known well in America, and embracing Calvert with a friendly fervor that almost five years of separation had not diminished. He had known of his coming through Mr. Jefferson, and, happening to pass the hotel, had stopped to inquire at the porter's lodge whether the travellers had arrived.

"'Tis a thousand pities d'Azay is not here to welcome you, too, my dear Calvert," he said, regretfully, "but he will be back to-morrow with his aunt, the old Duchess, and his sister. He is gone down to Azay-le-Roi, his ch?teau near Tours, to fetch them. But come! I am all impatience to show you a little of my Paris. We won't wait for d'Azay's return to begin, and I am sure Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Morris will excuse you for a few hours. Is it not so, gentlemen?" He looked around at the two older men. "Calvert has shown me Virginia. I long to return the compliment and show him this little piece of France!"

When they had made the tour of the establishment and had reached the head of the great stairway again, Mr. Jefferson dismissed the two young men with a final injunction to return soon, as he had much to talk over with Calvert. As the clanging door shut upon them, the two older men turned and went into Mr. Jefferson's study.

"I have to thank you, Mr. Jefferson," said Mr. Morris, seating himself once more before the crackling fire, "for a most pleasant acquaintance. I will confess now that when you wrote me suggesting that your new secretary should make the journey to France with me, I was scarcely pleased. 'Tis a long trip to make in the company of one who may not be wholly congenial. But from the moment Mr. Calvert presented himself to me in Philadelphia, on the eve of our sailing, until now, I can truly say I have enjoyed every instant of his companionship. I had heard something of him--much, indeed--from General Washington and Mr. Hamilton, but I was wholly unprepared to find so sincere, so intelligent a young gentleman. There is a strength, a fine reserve about him which appeals greatly to me."

"I thank you," said Mr. Jefferson, gratefully. "I love him as though he were my son, and any praise of him is dear to me. Do you wonder that I want him near me? Besides, 'tis imperative that I have a private secretary. Mr. Short, our secretary of Legation, who is now in Italy travelling for his health, like myself, is overworked; there are a thousand affairs to be attended to each day, and so little method in our arrangements as yet; our instructions and remittances from Congress are so irregular, our duties so confounded with mere courtesies, that we make but little progress. Besides which the state of affairs in this country renders all diplomatic and business relations very slow and uncertain--I might say hazardous--" He stopped and looked thoughtfully into the fire.

"I am sorry to hear that," said Mr. Morris, quickly. "I came over on business myself. And on business not only for myself, but on behalf of Mr. Robert Morris and of Constable & Co., of New York City. As you probably know, we have made large shipments of tobacco, contracted for by several farmers-general, but such has been the delay in delivery and payment after reaching this country that we deemed it absolutely necessary to have someone over here to attend to the matter. At Havre I found affairs irregular and prices low and fluctuating. I was hoping the markets would be steadier and quieter in Paris."

"I am afraid you will not find it so," replied Mr. Jefferson, shaking his head. "I am persuaded that this country is on the eve of some great change--some great upheaval. I see it in the faces of those I meet in the salons of the rich and noble; I see it in the faces of the common people in the streets--above all, I see it in the faces of the people in the streets."

Again he stopped and looked thoughtfully into the blazing fire. Mr. Morris's keen eyes fastened themselves on the finely chiselled face opposite him, aglow with a prophetic light. "I would be obliged," he said at length, "if you would give me some detailed account of the state of this government and country. I should like to know just where I stand. At the distance of three thousand miles, and with slow and irregular packets as the only means of communication, we in America have but an imperfect and tardy conception of what is going on in this country." He poured out a small glass of cognac from a decanter which stood on a table at his elbow, and, settling himself comfortably in his chair, prepared to listen.

The glow of enthusiasm was not at all reflected in the keen, attentive face of the younger man opposite him, whose look of growing disquietude betrayed the fact that he did not share Mr. Jefferson's hopes or sympathies. Indeed, it was inevitable that these two men of genius should hold dissimilar views about the struggle which the one had so clearly divined was to come and of which the other so clearly comprehended the consequences. It was inevitable that the man who had the sublime audacity to proclaim unfettered liberty and equality to a new world should differ radically from the man whose supreme achievement had been the fashioning and welding of its laws. They talked together until the wintry sun suddenly suffered an eclipse behind the mountains of gray clouds which had been threatening to fall upon it all the afternoon, and only the light from the crackling logs remained to show the bright enthusiasm of Mr. Jefferson's noble face and the sombre shadow upon Mr. Morris's disturbed one.

THE FRANCE OF 1789

France was sick. A great change and fever had fallen upon her, and there was no physician near skilled enough to cure her. Now and then one of her sons would look upon the pale, wasted features and note the rapidly throbbing pulse, the wild ravings of the disordered brain, and, frightened and despondent, would hurry away to consult with his brothers what should be done. But never to any good. Medicines were tried which had been potent with others in like sickness, but they seemed only to increase her delirium or lessen her vitality--never to bring her strength and reason. Day by day she grew worse. 'Twas as if some quick poison were working in her veins, until at last the poor body was one mass of swollen disfigurements, of putrid sores, that only a miracle from Heaven could heal. As miracles could not be looked for, everyone who had any skill in such desperate cases was called, and a thousand different opinions were given, a thousand different cures tried. And when all was seen to have been in vain, her tortured children, in their despair, left her and turned upon the false physicians, putting them to death and with ferocious joy avenging her agonies. And in the quiet which thus fell upon her, when all had left her to die, the fever and pain vanished; from her opened veins the poisoned blood dropped away; to the blinded eyes sight returned; in the distracted brain reason once more held sway. Slowly and faintly she arose and went about her business.

The world seemed topsy-turvy. Strange ideas and theories were being written and talked about. Physical science had been revolutionized. People suddenly discovered that what they had held all their lives to be facts were entire misconceptions of the truth. And, if they had been so mistaken about the facts of physical science, might they not be equally mistaken about theology, about law, about politics? Everywhere was doubt and questioning. Revolution was in the air. It was the fashion, and the young French officers returned from the War of Independence in the American colonies found themselves alike the heroes of the common people and of the fashionable world.

Nature herself seemed to be in league with the discontent of the times. A long drouth in the summer, which had made the poor harvests poorer still, was followed by that famous winter of 1789--that winter of merciless, of unexampled, cold for France. And in the heat of that long summer and in the cold of that still longer winter, the storm gathered fast which was to rise higher and higher until it should beat upon the very throne itself, and all that was left of honor and justice in France should perish therein.

"THE LASS WITH THE DELICATE AIR"

It was to that unhappy land of France that Mr. Jefferson had come almost five years before on a mission for Congress. For some time it had been the most cherished design of that body of patriots to establish advantageous commercial treaties with the European powers, thereby securing to America not only material prosperity, but, more important still, forcing our recognition as a separate and independent power, and creating for the new confederation of states a place among the brotherhood of nations. Confident that Mr. Jefferson's astuteness, erudition, and probity would make a powerful impression upon those whom it was so much to our interest to attach to us, Congress had, on the 7th day of May, 1784, appointed him Minister Plenipotentiary for the negotiation of foreign commercial treaties. Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams, his co-workers, were already eagerly awaiting him in Paris.

"I am a savage! Savage enough to prefer the woods and streams and independence of my Monticello to all the brilliant pleasures which Paris will offer me. I could find it in my heart to wish that Congress had never urged upon me this mission abroad. But I have always tried to serve my country at my country's call, and I shall continue to serve her, though it take me from home and family and friends. Instead of repining at this exile to France--for how long I do not know--I should be thankful for this last beautiful evening at Monticello and for the friends who are come to bid me farewell. I wonder that the Marquis does not arrive. I have much of importance to discuss with him."

Mr. Jefferson had no greater admirer than the Marquis de Lafayette, whose arrival he so impatiently awaited. He had affairs of weight to talk over with the young Frenchman--letters of introduction to statesmen with whom Lafayette was most intimate, notes on commercial affairs of France, messages to friends, drafts on bankers in Paris, and a host of details on the present state of politics in France with which he wished to become acquainted before presenting himself at the French court, and which Lafayette, but lately returned from France, could amply furnish him. And after business should have been finished, Mr. Jefferson was looking forward with keen delight to all that the observant, cultured young nobleman might have to tell him of the progress in the Parisian world of sciences, art, and music , and of those adventures which had attended his triumphal return to America. 'Twas at General Washington's invitation that Monsieur de Lafayette was re-visiting, after only three years' absence, the greatful states where he had first, and so gloriously, embarked in the cause of liberty, and the warmth of his welcome at Mount Vernon--where indeed Mr. Jefferson's note, inviting him to Monticello, reached him--would alone have repaid him for the long journey had all other honors been denied him. But his progress through the states had been one triumph, marked by lavish f?tes and civic parades, not so magnificent, it is true, as those tendered him on his last visit to our country, but still forming an almost unparalleled tribute of affection and respect from a nation to an individual. Young men of the highest position and family attached themselves to his retinue and rode with him from city to city, leaving him only to be replaced by other friends and enthusiastic admirers. Even as Mr. Jefferson stood upon the portico of Monticello, Monsieur de Lafayette was approaching, with his escort, riding hard and joyfully in the gathering twilight to reach there in time to see his illustrious friend before he should set out for Boston.

In the meantime guests were arriving rapidly, horseback or in handsome, high-panelled coaches drawn by four horses , and the negro grooms were busy stabling them. In the house servants were moving about, lighting the fragrant wax candles of myrtle-berry and seeing to the comfort of the guests. The narrow stairway could hardly accommodate the rustling, voluminous brocades that swept up and down them above the clicking, high-heeled shoes and dainty, silver-clocked stockings. But there was room for all in the beautiful octagonal hall, thirty feet square, and in the long saloon parlor, the cost of whose inlaid satin and rosewood floor had somewhat scandalized Mr. Jefferson's less wealthy and less artistic neighbors.

It were hard indeed to get together a gathering of more beautiful women or more courtly, distinguished gentlemen than was assembled that evening at Monticello. Among the latter were many of those men who had helped to make America what she was; lawgivers, soldiers, tried statesmen who had been of that famous Congress of '75, of which my Lord Chatham, in a burst of uncontrollable enthusiasm, had declared that "its members had never been excelled in solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion."

The Virginia beauties, if less modish and extravagant, as a rule, than the belles of Philadelphia and New York, yielded to none in aristocratic loveliness and grace and dignity of bearing. In the eyes of Mr. Jefferson their very naturalness made them more attractive, and perhaps it was for her sweet freshness and shy beauty that he gave the palm of loveliness to Miss Molly Crenshawe, who had ridden over on a pillion behind her brother from her father's neighboring estate of Edgemoor, attended by young Carter of Redlands, who was never far away from her if he could help it. A less partial judge than Mr. Jefferson, however, would have found it hard to decide that she was more lovely than her dearest friend, the bewitching Miss Peggy Gary, who had driven over early in the day from Ampthill with her father, Colonel Archibald Gary.

Talking and laughing, the two young girls rustled down the stairs and across the broad hall to the entrance of the saloon parlor, where Mr. Jefferson and his sister, the lovely widow Carr, were standing, greeting their guests. The courtesies which the young ladies swept their host and hostess were marvels of grace and dexterity, and were noted with approval by the young gentlemen who lined the walls or talked to the ladies already foregathered. Some of those same young gentlemen fairly rivalled the ladies in richness of attire, following the elaborate fashions of dress which General Washington had encouraged by his own example. For the most part they were the sons of wealthy farmers and planters, shorn perhaps of some of their pre-Revolutionary splendor, but still aristocrats in bearing and feeling; young sporting squires who indulged in cock-fighting and horse-racing; rising lawyers, orators, all bearing the marks of good birth and good breeding.

Among the crowd of gayly dressed young gentlemen was one who was especially noticeable. His handsome face wore a rather reckless, petulant expression, which, however, could not conceal a certain brightness and fire of genius that at moments eclipsed the irritable look and rendered his countenance unusually attractive. It was Gilbert Stuart, the young portrait painter, but recently returned from England, where he was famed both as artist and wit. It was even said by his admirers that there his fame and following were the equal of his master's, Benjamin West's, or even Sir Joshua Reynolds's.

The scene in Mr. Jefferson's drawing-room was becoming more and more animated. The guests had nearly all assembled and were thronging the parlor and great hall beneath the brilliant light of many candles. From the music-gallery overhead the sounds of flute and violin in tentative accord were beginning to be heard. The musicians were some of Mr. Jefferson's slaves who had shown marked ability and whom he himself had instructed in the art. They had proved themselves apt pupils and could play excellently airs for the minuet and Virginia reel. Mr. Jefferson was never happier than when Monticello was thronged with gay dancers, nor was he an indifferent votary of Terpsichore himself. Indeed, many were the balls and assemblies he attended during his student days in Williamsburg, many the nights he danced away with "Belinda" and other fair ones. And so when the music for the irresistible Virginia reel struck up, Mr. Jefferson was first on the floor with Miss Molly Crenshawe. They were quickly followed by other couples, until the opposite lines of dancers extended half-way down the sides of the long drawing-room. Up and down they went to the gay music, under the bright light, misty with powder shaken from flying curls.

Suddenly, as Mr. Stuart was advancing with out-stretched hands to swing Miss Gary, there was a blare of horns and a chorus of "hellos" from without, mingled with the sound of horses galloping up the avenue. The dancers ceased their courtesying and stately step, the music stopped, and Mr. Jefferson hurried to the portico in time to greet the young Marquis de Lafayette and his escort as they flung themselves off their hot mounts. Every head was uncovered as the young Frenchman affectionately embraced Mr. Jefferson, and greetings and acclamations went up from the throng of guests as they appeared at the entrance.

'Twas not wonderful that Mr. Jefferson, like General Washington, Colonel Hamilton, General Greene, and so many others of our distinguished patriots, was captivated by this young nobleman, and could the jealous ones who asserted that they were dazzled by his rank and awed and flattered into giving him more than he merited but have seen him in the first flush of his glory and young manhood they, too, would have found his charm irresistible. Indeed, to Mr. Jefferson he was always the hero, the man of genius and spotless patriotism, though many, in after years, grew to distrust his powers and motives.

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