It was with the gloomiest forebodings and the doubt whether he should ever see them under happier circumstances, or, indeed, at all, that Mr. Calvert bade farewell to a few friends on the eve of his departure for England. Although he had the greatest power of making devoted friends, yet he was intimate with but very few persons, and so, while Mr. Morris was making a score of farewell visits and engaging to fill a dozen commissions for the Parisian ladies in London, Calvert was saying good-by very quietly to but three or four friends. D'Azay he saw at the Club, and it was not without great anxiety that he parted from him. Calvert had noticed his friend's extreme republicanism and his alliance with Lafayette with grave apprehension, and it was with the keenest uncertainty as to the future that he said good-by to the young nobleman. He was spared the embarrassment of bidding Madame de St. AndrÉ farewell, for, when he called at the hÔtel in the rue St. HonorÉ to pay his respects to Madame d'Azay, as he felt in duty bound to do, he was told by the lackey that both ladies were out.

Mr. Morris, having obtained information that the banking house in Amsterdam, upon which he was relying for backing in the purchase of the American debt, had opened a loan on account of Congress and had withdrawn from their engagements with him, determined to proceed to England by way of Holland, that he might have personal interviews with the directors relative to the affair. Accordingly, he and Mr. Calvert set out for Amsterdam on the morning of the 17th of February, travelling in a large berline and taking but one servant—Mr. Morris's—with them. 'Twas with much reluctance that Calvert had left Bertrand behind, for the fellow was as devotedly attached to him as a slave, and was never so happy as when doing some service for the young man.

"I am afraid he will go back to his wild companions and become the enragÉ that he was," said Calvert to Mr. Morris, "and I have given him much good advice, which I dare say he will not follow, however. But my plans are so uncertain that there is no knowing when he would see France again."

They travelled by way of Flanders, stopping a day and night in Brussels, and thence to Malines and Antwerp, where they saw the famous "Descent from the Cross," which Mr. Calvert thought the greatest and most terrible painting he had ever seen. At Amsterdam they were received into the highest society of the place, and were most hospitably entertained; but the state of the whole country was so unsettled that Mr. Morris deemed it most prudent not to press the financial engagements which he had expected to make, and, accordingly, they set out for England.

Journeying by way of The Hague and Rotterdam, they set sail in the Holland packet and were landed at Harwich on the 27th of March. They proceeded at once to London, arriving late in the afternoon, and took rooms and lodgings at Froome's Hotel, Covent Garden. There they were waited on, in the course of the evening, by General Morris, Mr. Gouverneur Morris's brother. This gentleman, who had remained a royalist and removed to England, was a general in the British army, and had married the Duchess of Gordon. He was eager to make the travellers from Paris welcome to London, and could scarcely wait for the morrow to begin his kind offices. As Mr. Morris had hoped and, indeed, expected, he took an instant liking to Mr. Calvert, and professed himself anxious that that young gentleman's stay in London should prove agreeable. This kind wish was echoed by his wife, who was as greatly prepossessed in Calvert's favor when he was presented to her the following day as General Morris had been, and, as they moved in the highest circles of society, it was easy enough to introduce the young American to the gayest social life of the capital. With the acquaintances thus made and the large circle of friends which Mr. Morris had formed on his previous visit to London, Calvert soon found himself on pleasant terms.

Perhaps the house they both most liked to frequent was that of Mr. John B. Church. Mr. Morris had known the gentleman when he was Commissary-General under Lafayette in America and before he had married his American wife. Mr. Church's American proclivities made him unpopular with the Tory party on his return to England, but he numbered among his friends the Whig leaders and many of the most eminent men and women of the day. 'Twas at a ball given by Mrs. Church a few days after his arrival in London that Mr. Calvert saw, for the first time, some of the greatest personages in the kingdom—the Prince of Wales, and Mrs. Fitzherbert, the beautiful Mrs. Damer and the Duc d'OrlÉans, who had but lately come over, sent out of France by the King under pretext of an embassy to the English monarch. Calvert had not seen his hateful face since the opening of the States-General, and 'twas with a kind of horror that he now looked at this royal renegade. Pitt was there, too, but, although Mr. Calvert saw him, he did not meet him until on a subsequent occasion. He marvelled, as did everyone who saw Pitt at this time, at the youth (he was but thirty-one) and the dignity of the Prime Minister of George III. Indeed, he moved among the company with a kind of cold splendor that sat strangely on so young a man, smacking of affectation somewhat, and which rather repelled than invited Calvert's admiration. This first impression Mr. Calvert had little reason to alter when, some weeks later, in company with Mr. Morris, he was presented to Mr. Pitt by the Duke of Leeds, and had the occasion of seeing and conversing with him at some length.

This interview was the second one which Mr. Morris had had with his Grace of Leeds, and was scarcely more satisfactory than the first had been. But a few days after his arrival in London he had requested an interview with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and presented to him his letter from President Washington. A few minutes' conversation with the incapable, indolent diplomat convinced Mr. Morris that little, if anything, would be done toward settling the treaty difficulties, in spite of his Grace's extreme courtesy of manner and vague assurance of immediate attention to the facts presented to him. It was therefore with no surprise, but a good deal of irritation, that Mr. Morris saw the weeks slip by with but one evasive answer to his demands being sent him. Being importuned to appeal to the British Government on another score—the impressment of American seamen into the English navy—he determined again to urge upon the Minister of Foreign Affairs a settlement of the treaty stipulations at the same time that he presented the new subject of grievance. To Mr. Morris's request for another interview, the Duke of Leeds readily assented.

"He has set to-morrow as the day, Ned," said Mr. Morris, consulting his Grace's letter, which he held in his hand, "and says that 'he and Mr. Pitt will be glad to discuss informally with me any matters I wish to bring to their attention.' As it is to be so 'informal,' and as Leeds is to have the advantage of a friend at the interview, I think I will ask you to accompany me. I can't for the life of me get him to commit himself in writing, so 'tis as well to have a witness to our conversations," he said, smiling a little cynically.

Accordingly, at one o'clock the following day, Mr. Morris and Calvert drove to Whitehall, where they found the Prime Minister and the Duke of Leeds awaiting them. The Duke presented Calvert to Mr. Pitt, who seemed glad to see the young American, and not at all disconcerted by the addition to their numbers. Indeed, the interview was as easy and familiar as possible, the gentlemen sitting about a table whereon were glasses and a decanter of port, of which Mr. Pitt drank liberally.

"'Tis the only medicine Dr. Addington, my father's physician, ever prescribed for me," he said, with a smile, to Mr. Morris and Calvert. "I beg of you to try this—'tis some just sent me from Oporto, and, I think, particularly good. But we are here to discuss more important affairs than port wine, however excellent," he added, with another smile.

"Yes," said Mr. Morris, courteously but firmly, "I have requested this interview that I might place before you the complaint of the United States that your press-gangs enter our American ships and impress our seamen under the pretence that they are British subjects. It has long been a sore subject with America, and calls for a speedy remedy, sir."

"Such conduct meets with no more approval from us than from you, Mr. Morris," said the Duke of Leeds, evasively; "but a remedy will be hard to find because of the difficulties of distinguishing between a seaman of two countries so closely related."

"Closely related we are, sir, but I believe this is the only instance in which we are not treated as aliens," returned Mr. Morris, with a dry irony that caused the Duke to flush and move uneasily in his chair.

"You speak of a speedy remedy, Mr. Morris," said Mr. Pitt, hastily, taking up the conversation. "Have you any suggestions as to what remedy might be employed?"

"I would suggest certificates of citizenship from the Admiralty Court of America to our seamen," replied Mr. Morris, promptly. Both Mr. Pitt and the Duke of Leeds looked somewhat surprised at this bold and concise answer.

"'Tis a good idea," said Mr. Pitt, after an instant's hesitation, "and worthy of mature consideration."

"And now, gentlemen, I would like to again place before you these stipulations in the treaty existing between America and England which are as yet unfulfilled, and would urge you to engage that they will no longer be neglected," said Mr. Morris, content to have made his point in regard to the impressment of seamen.

"Suppose you enumerate them in the order of their importance from your point of view and let us discuss the situation," said Mr. Pitt, and he settled himself in his chair and listened with undivided attention to Mr. Morris, parrying with great animation that gentleman's thrusts (which were made again and again with the utmost shrewdness and coolness), and avoiding, whenever possible, a positive promise or a direct answer to his demands.

In this conversation Mr. Calvert joined but once—when appealed to by
Mr. Pitt on the subject of the frontier posts.

"Mr. Morris has a new variation on the old theme of 'Heads I win, tails you lose,'" he said, turning jocularly to Calvert. "He insists that the frontier posts are worth nothing to us, and yet he insists they are most necessary to you."

"England and America are so widely separated, sir," replied Calvert, smiling, "that it would seem to be well to respect laws which Nature has set, and keep them so. Near neighbors are seldom good ones, and, to keep the peace between us, 'twere well to keep the distance, also."

"We do not think it worth while to go to war about these posts," said Mr. Morris, rising and bowing to Mr. Pitt and his Grace of Leeds, "but we know our rights and will avail ourselves of them when time and circumstance suit."

"Another fruitless effort," he said, when they had been ushered out and were in the carriage and driving along Whitehall. "I think there is little chance of making a new commercial treaty when they will not fulfil the peace treaty already in existence. I caught the drift of Mr. Pitt's suggestion about mutual accommodation—'twas but a snare to trip us up into repudiating the old treaty."

"Yes," said Calvert, laughing, "a Pittfall."

"And you will see, Ned," added Mr. Morris, joining in the laugh, "that nothing will be done—unless 'tis to appoint a minister to the United States. 'Tis my conviction that Mr. Pitt has determined, in spite of his suavity and apparent friendliness, to make no move in this matter—he hasn't that damned long, obstinate upper lip for nothing, boy. He is all for looking after home affairs and doesn't want to meddle with any foreign policy. I think he is not wise or great enough to look abroad and seize the opportunities that offer. As Charles Fox said—I met him the other evening at dinner at Mrs. Church's—'Pitt was a lucky man before he was a great one,' and I am inclined to agree with him. But I am convinced that they mean to hold the frontier posts and refuse all indemnity for the slaves taken away. And as for the commercial treaty—this country is too powerful just now to be willing to give us fair terms. We could make but a poor bargain with her now, one which we would probably soon regret, and so I shall write the President."

Affairs eventuated exactly as Mr. Morris had predicted, and, although he conducted the embassy with the greatest possible address, shrewdness, and persistence, this failure was made much of in America, and used as an argument against his later appointment as minister to France.

One of the greatest pleasures of Mr. Calvert's stay in London was the unexpected presence there of Mr. Gilbert Stuart. The Queen, wishing to have a portrait of the King, and fearing lest another attack of that dreadful malady from which the poor gentleman had temporarily recovered, should assail him, had commanded Mr. Stuart's presence from Dublin, where he was by invitation of the Duke of Rutland. The royal commission having been executed, Mr. Stuart was passing a few weeks in London with his friend and former patron, Benjamin West, when he met Calvert at a dinner at the house of General and Mrs. Morris. He recognized the young man instantly and reverted to their former meeting at Monticello. "And I promised both myself and Mr. Jefferson to paint a portrait of you, sir," he said, smiling. "I am to be in London for some weeks, and, if you are to be here, too, what time could be more propitious than the present?"

Calvert's assurance that he was in town indefinitely delighted Mr.
Stuart.

"Then I must have that sketch of you I have so long promised myself, and we will send a replica to Mr. Jefferson. From the affectionate manner in which he spoke of you, I think I could send him no more acceptable present, Mr. Calvert," he said, speaking with great animation. "I shall beg a corner of Mr. West's studio, and we must begin our sittings at once."

Indeed, he sent for Calvert the very next day, and for several weeks thereafter the young man was thrown much with Stuart and many of the most interesting and famous men of the time, who delighted to foregather in Mr. West's studio. The portrait which Mr. Stuart made of Calvert at this time he always reckoned one of his masterpieces, as, indeed, all who ever saw it declared it to be. Never did the artist execute anything simpler or purer in outline, never were his wonderful flesh tints better laid on, nor the expression of a noble countenance more perfectly caught than in this sketch, a copy of which he was good enough to make and send to Mr. Jefferson, as he had promised. 'Twas at one of the sittings to Mr. Stuart that Calvert made the acquaintance of Mr. Burke. He came in with Sir Joshua Reynolds—the two gentlemen were the greatest friends—and, on discovering that the young gentleman was an American and had been attached to the Legation in Paris, he immediately entered into an animated conversation with him.

"You ought to be able to give us some interesting information about the present state of affairs in France, Mr. Calvert," said Burke to the young man. "By the way, I have thrown together some reflections on the revolution which I would be glad to have you see. They are elaborated from notes made a year ago and are still in manuscript. I live near here in Gerrard Street, Soho, and I would be happy to welcome you and Mr. Stuart to my home, and to have you give me your opinion on certain points."

Mr. Stuart saying that the sitting was over, suggested that they should go at once, so the three gentlemen accompanied Mr. Burke to Gerrard Street and were hospitably ushered into his library. He brought out the manuscript of which he had spoken so lightly (and which was, indeed, voluminous enough for a book) and, turning over the pages rapidly, read here and there extracts from that remarkable treatise which he thought might most interest his audience.

"It has been nearly a score of years since I was in France," he says to Mr. Calvert, laying down the manuscript, "but the interest which that country aroused in me then has never flagged, and ever since my return I have endeavored to keep myself informed of the progress of events there. While in Paris I was presented to their Majesties and many of the most notable men and women of the day. I remember the Queen well—surely there never was a princess so beautiful and so entrancing. She shone brilliant as the morning star, full of splendor and joy. But stay—I have written what I thought of her here," and so saying, he began to read that wonderful passage, that exquisite panegyric of the Dauphiness of France which was soon to be so justly famous. There was a murmur of applause from the gentlemen when he laid the manuscript down.

"'Tis a beautiful tribute. I wish Mr. Jefferson could hear it," says Mr. Calvert, with a smile. "He is not an admirer of the Queen, like yourself, Mr. Burke, and thinks she should be shut up in a convent and the King left free to follow his ministers, but I think your eloquence would win him over, if anything could."

A couple of days afterward, at a dinner at the French Ambassador's, Monsieur de la Luzerne, Mr. Calvert repeated this famous panegyric of the Queen, as nearly as he could remember it. 'Twas received with the wildest enthusiasm and Mr. Burke's health drunk by the loyal refugees who were always to be found at Monsieur de la Luzerne's table and in his drawing-rooms. An immense amount of "refugee" was talked there, and the latest news from Paris discussed and rediscussed by the homesick and dÉscouvrÉ emigrants. Mr. Morris and Calvert were frequent visitors there, liking to hear of their friends in Paris and the events taking place in France.

In spite of all the distractions and pleasures of town life which Mr. Calvert engaged in, he still felt those secret pangs of bitter disappointment and the fever of unsatisfied desire, but he was both too unselfish and too proud to show what he suffered. There are some of us who keep our dark thoughts and secret, hopeless longings in the background, as the maimed and diseased beggars are kept off the streets in Paris, and only let them come from their hiding-places at long intervals, like the beggars again, who crawl forth once or twice a year to solicit alms and pity. Although Mr. Morris knew Calvert so well, his impetuous nature could never quite comprehend the calm fortitude, the silent endurance of the younger man, and so, when he saw him apparently amused and distracted by the society to which he had been introduced, and by the thousand gayeties of town life, he left him in September and returned for a brief stay in Paris, happy in the belief that the young man was already half-cured of his passion.

He was back again in December with a budget of news from France. "The situation grows desperate," he said to Calvert. "I told Montmorin and the Due de Liancourt that the constitution the AssemblÉe had proposed is such that the Almighty Himself could not make it succeed without creating a new species of man. The assignats have depreciated, just as I predicted, the army is in revolt, and the ministers threatened with la lanterne. 'Tis much the fashion in Paris, let me tell you. But murder, duelling, and pillage—they sacked the hotel of the Duc de Castries the other day because his son wounded Charles de Lameth in a duel—are every-day occurrences now. Lafayette is in a peck of trouble, and received me with the utmost coldness. He knows I cannot commend him, and therefore he feels embarrassed and impatient in my society. I am seriously pained for d'Azay, too. I met him at Montmorin's, and he confessed to me that he knew not how to steer his course. He is horrified at the insane measures of the Jacobins, he has cut himself loose from his own class, and is beginning to doubt Lafayette's wisdom and powers. He is in a hopeless situation. He told me that Montmorin had asked that Carmichael be appointed to the court of France, but that he and Beaufort and other of my friends had insisted on my appointment. 'Tis a matter of indifference to me. Whoever is appointed—Short, Carmichael, Madison, or myself—will have no sinecure in France. Unhappy country! The closet philosophers who are trying to rule it are absolutely bewildered, and I know not what will save the state unless it be a foreign war."

"'Tis the general opinion here among the ministers that the Emperor is too cautious ever to engage in that war, however," said Calvert.

"I see you have been affiliating with the peaceful Pitt and not carousing with Sheridan and Fox," returned Mr. Morris, with a smile.

"I have been endeavoring to learn some of that useful information which Mr. Jefferson recommended," said Calvert, smiling also. "Upon Mr. Pitt's recommendation I have been reading 'The Wealth of Nations' and studying the political history of Europe. Seriously, I hope my time has not been spent entirely without profit, although I have caroused, as you express it, to some extent. I have drunk more than was good for me, and I have gone to the play and tried to fancy myself in love with Mrs. Jordan, but, to tell the truth, I can't do any of these things with enthusiasm. I'm a quiet fellow, with nothing of the stage hero in me, and I can't go to the devil for a woman after the approved style."

"Don't try it, boy! The pretty ones are not worth it and the good ones are not pretty," said Mr. Morris, cynically. "I found Madame de Flahaut surrounded by half a dozen new admirers, in spite of which she tried to make me believe she had not forgotten me in my absence. I pretended to be convinced, of course, but I devoted myself to the Comtesse de Frize, and I think she liked me all the better for my defection. Come back to Paris with me and see what Madame de St. AndrÉ would say to a like treatment," he went on, laughing, but looking shrewdly at the young man.

"I am best away from Paris—although separation does not seem to help me."

"Absence may extinguish a small passion, but I think it only broadens and deepens a great one," said Mr. Morris. "I saw many of our friends—Madame de Chastellux and the Duchesse d'OrlÉans, Madame de StaËl and Madame d'Azay—she is much broken, Ned; the emigration of so many of her friends, the tragic death of many, the disrupting of her whole social world, has begun to tell seriously on her health, though her spirit is still indomitable. She and Madame de St. AndrÉ and d'Azay are living very quietly in the mansion in the rue St. HonorÉ. In the evenings some of the friends who still remain come in for a dinner or to play quinze or lansquenet, but, in truth, 'tis difficult to get half a dozen people together. Madame de St. AndrÉ is more beautiful than ever, with a new and softer beauty. The horror of the times hath touched her, too, I think, and rendered more serious that capricious nature. But who, indeed, could live in Paris and not be chastened by the awful scenes there enacting? I almost shudder to think of having to return so soon, but I shall only stay to see His Grace of Leeds once more relative to the treaty."

This interview, having been twice postponed, and pressing affairs calling Mr. Morris to France, he finally left London in January with the promise of returning in the spring. This promise he fulfilled, getting back in May and bringing with him news of Mirabeau's death and splendid burial and of the widespread fear of a counter-revolution by the emigrant army under the Prince de CondÉ. He was warmly welcomed by Calvert, who, in spite of the many kind offices and attentions of the friends he had made, was beginning to weary of the English capital. In truth, he was possessed by a restlessness that would have sent him home had he not wished to respect Mr. Jefferson's advice and make a tour on the continent before returning. He hoped to persuade Mr. Morris to accompany him, and in this he was not disappointed. Accordingly, after a month in London, they set out for Rotterdam and, travelling leisurely through the Low Countries, made their way to Cologne. It was while waiting there for a boat to take them up the Rhine—both Mr. Morris and Calvert were anxious to make this water trip—that they heard the news, already two weeks old, of the flight of their Majesties and of Monsieur from France and of the recapture of the King and Queen at Varennes. Monsieur had escaped safely to Brussels and had made his way to Coblentz, where Mr. Morris and Calvert saw him later. He was installed in a castle, placed at his service by the Elector of TrÈves, which over-looked the great fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, and there he held his little court and made merry with the officers of the Prince de CondÉ's army and the throngs of ÉmigrÉs who came and went and did a vast deal of talking and even laughing over their misfortunes, but who never seemed to learn a lesson from them. Coblentz was full of these exiles from France, who treated the townsfolk with a mixture of condescension and rudeness which caused them to speedily become detested. There was one little cafÉ in particular, Les Trois Colonnes, which they frequented, and where they laughed and gambled and made witty speeches and tremendous threats against the men in France from whom they had run away. It was at this little inn that Mr. Calvert one day saw Monsieur de St. Aulaire for the first time in two years. He came into the gaming-room where Mr. Morris and Calvert were sitting at a side-table drinking a glass of cognac and talking with Monsieur de Puymaigre, one of the Prince de CondÉ's officers. As his glance met that of Mr. Calvert, he bowed constrainedly, and the red of his face deepened. He was more dissipated-looking, less debonair than he had seemed to Calvert in Madame d'Azay's salon. There was an uneasiness, too, in his manner that was reflected in the attitude toward him of the other gentlemen in the room. In fact, he was welcomed coldly enough, and in a few days he left the town. 'Twas rumored pretty freely that he was an emissary of OrlÉans and that Monsieur and the Prince de CondÉ were in a hurry to get rid of him. Mr. Calvert was of this belief, which was confirmed by St. Aulaire himself when Calvert met him unexpectedly during the winter in London.

This journey, so pleasantly begun and which was to have continued through the fall, was interrupted, shortly after the two gentlemen left Coblentz, by a pressing and disquieting letter which urged Mr. Morris's presence in Paris. He therefore left Calvert to continue the tour alone, which the young man did, travelling through Germany and stopping at many of the famous watering-places, and even going as far as the Austrian capital, where he met with a young Mr. Huger of the Carolinas. This young American, who was an ardent admirer of Lafayette and who was destined to attempt to serve him and suffer for him, accompanied Mr. Calvert as far as Lake Constance, where they parted, Mr. Calvert going on to Bale and up through the Austrian Netherlands. He passed through Maubeuge and Lille and Namur, and so was, fortunately, made familiar with places he was to see something of a little later in the service of his Majesty Louis XVI.

He was back in London by Christmas, and was joined there shortly after the New Year by Mr. Morris, who had gone over on private affairs entirely, but whose close connection with the court party in France laid open to the suspicion of being an agent of the aristocratic party.

"I heard the rumors myself," said Mr. Morris. "Indeed, I was openly told of it before leaving Paris. But only a madman would interfere in French politics at this hour. The whole country is in a state of disorganization almost inconceivable. The King—poor creature—has been reinstated, after a fashion, since his flight, but with most unkingly limitations. All political parties are broken up—Lafayette and Bailly and the Lameths find themselves in an impossible position and have seceded from the Jacobins. For two years now they have been preaching the pure democracy of Rousseau, the rights of man, the sovereignty of the people. They have done everything to deprive the King of his power, they have hurled abuse at the throne, at the whole Old Order of things. And now, when they see to what chaos things are coming, when they wish to stop at moderation, at order, at a monarchy based on solid principles and supported by the solid middle class, they are suddenly made to realize how little their theories correspond with their real desires. Incapacity, misrule, is everywhere. Narbonne has been made War Minister! At this crisis, when the allied armies are gathering on the frontier, when war is imminent against two hundred and fifty thousand of the finest soldiers in Europe, a trifler like Narbonne is placed in power! But if others were no worse than he! 'Tis incredible the villains who have pushed themselves into the high places. Can you believe it, boy?—your servant, that scoundrel Bertrand, that soldier of the ranks, that waiter of the CafÉ de l'École, is a great man in Paris these days. He is listened to by thousands when he rants in the garden of the Palais Royal; he is hand in glove with Danton; he divides attention with Robespierre; he is a power in himself. Heaven knows how he has become so—but these creatures spring up like mushrooms in a night. I saw much of Danton and not a little of Bertrand, for I frequented the Cordelliers Club a good deal. 'Tis well to stand in with all parties, especially if there is even a remote chance of my being placed as minister at the French court. 'Tis so rumored in Paris, and the elections are now taking place in America," so Mr. Short informs me. "I heard of St. Aulaire," went on Mr. Morris. "Beaufort told me that he had got into Paris secretly on the Due d'OrlÉans's business, but that he had spent much of his time in the rue St. HonorÉ, pressing his suit with Madame de St. AndrÉ. She would have none of him, however, and seems to have conceived a sort of horror of him—as, indeed, well she might. He went away, raging, Beaufort said, and vowing some mysterious vengeance. He is believed to be in London, Ned, and I dare say we shall meet with him some day. D'Azay has been denounced in the Assembly and is in bad odor with all parties, apparently. I fear he is in imminent peril, and 'tis pitiful to see the anxiety of his sister and the old Duchess for him. I think she would not survive the shock should he be imprisoned. 'Twould be but another gap in the ranks of our friends."

The appointment of American ministers to the different foreign courts was in progress, as Mr. Short had said, and, on January 12th, Mr. Morris, after a stormy debate in the Senate, was chosen Minister to France by a majority of only five votes out of sixteen. He was told of his appointment by Mr. Constable in February and, shortly after, received the official notice of it under the seal of the Secretary of State. Although Mr. Jefferson had differed radically from Mr. Morris in his opinion concerning the French Revolution, knowing him as he did, he could not but affirm both officially and personally so wise a choice.

The President's indorsement of Mr. Morris was even more hearty, and, indeed, 'twas hinted by Mr. Morris's enemies that Washington's open approval of him had alone saved him from defeat. But though the President was of the opinion that Mr. Morris was the best possible choice for the difficult post of Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States to France, he was also entirely aware of those traits of character which, his opponents urged, rendered him unsuited for the place. His impetuosity, occasional haughtiness, and close connection with the aristocratic party, were disabilities undoubtedly, but the President was convinced that they were far more than counterbalanced by his force of character, mental keenness, and wide knowledge of French affairs, and so wrote Mr. Morris in one of the kindest letters that great man ever penned. This letter Mr. Morris received in the spirit in which it was written, and, being already involved in a secret affair, of which, as minister, he should not even have known, much less been engaged in, he determined to withdraw himself from it as speedily as possible and to conduct himself with such discretion that the President would have no occasion to regret his efforts in his behalf. He immediately set about making the necessary arrangements for his new establishment, writing to Paris to engage a hotel in the rue de la Planche, Faubourg St. Germain, for the new Legation, and forwarding to France as rapidly as possible the English horses and coach, the furniture and plate which he had purchased in London. He set out for Paris in early March, leaving Calvert again in London, though he pressed the young man urgently to accompany him back to the capital and accept the post of Secretary of the Legation under him.