THE PRIVATE SECRETARY
They drove in silence almost to the rue Neuve de Berry, Calvert musing
on the strange glimpse he had had of life in Paris, Beaufort busy with
his restless horses. At the grille of the Legation Calvert alighted and
Beaufort bade him good-by, still with the gloomy, foreboding look on his
handsome face.
When Calvert had mounted the great stairway, with the carved salamanders
on the balustrade ever crawling their way up and down, he found Mr.
Jefferson sitting alone before the bright fire in his library. As soon
as he heard the young man's step he looked up eagerly.
"At last!" he cried. "I was wishing that you would come in. Mr. Morris
has just been despatched in my carriage to the rue Richelieu, and I was
beginning to wonder what that wild Beaufort had done with you to keep
you so late."
"We are but just returned from a sight of the Palais Royal," said
Calvert, throwing off his great-coat and sitting down beside Mr.
Jefferson, who rang for candles and a box of his Virginia tobacco. "And
a strange enough sight it was--a turbulent crowd, and much political
speaking from hoarse-throated giants held aloft on their friends'
shoulders." "A strange enough place, indeed," said Mr. Jefferson,
shaking his head and smiling a little at Calvert's wholesale description
of it. "'Tis the political centre of Paris, in fact, and though the
crowds may be turbulent and the orators windy, yet 'tis there that the
fruitful seed of the political harvest, which this great country will
reap with such profit, is being sown. 'Despise not the day of small
things,'" he went on, cheerfully. "These rude, vehement orators, with
their narrow, often erroneous, ideas, are nevertheless doing a good
work. They are opening the minds of the ignorant, clearing a way for
broader, higher ideals to lodge therein; they are the pioneers, in this
hitherto undiscovered country for France, of civil liberty, and of
freedom of thought and action."
"And these vehement orators, with their often erroneous ideas--will they
do no harm? Will these pioneers not lead their fellows astray in that
undiscovered country?" suggested Calvert, not without a blush to think
that he had the temerity to question the soundness of Mr. Jefferson's
views.
"Were we not inexperienced, hot-headed men who gathered in the Apollo
room at the Raleigh to protest against the proceedings in Massachusetts?
Were we not rash, windy orators in the House of Burgesses--nay, in
Congress itself? Yet did we not accomplish great things--great good?" He
laid his hand affectionately on the shoulder of the young man who
remained silent, revolving many things, Aeneas-like, but too modest to
oppose himself further to Mr. Jefferson.
"No, no, my boy," continued Mr. Jefferson, after an instant's silence,
"do not believe that the awakening which made of us a great nation will
not be equally glorious for France! And with such leaders as are hers,
will she not march proudly and triumphantly forward to her day of glory?
Will not a Lafayette do even more for his own country than ever he did
for America? Even I have been able to help somewhat. 'Tis true, as
Minister from the United States of America, I cannot use my official
influence, but surely as a patriot, as an American citizen who is
profoundly, overwhelmingly grateful for the aid, the generosity, the
friendship of this great country, I can give counsel, the results of our
experience, a word of encouragement, of good cheer."
He paused, his noble face alight with enthusiasm and emotion. Of all the
fine traits of that fine character none was more strongly marked than
that of gratitude. Never ashamed to show it, his only fear was that he
might not prove grateful enough. Other Americans, of as great talents
and colder hearts, could find it easy to believe that France had
extended her aid to us for diplomatic purposes--to guard her own
interests and humble her adversary, England--could look on with neutral
eyes at her awful struggles, could keep America calmly aloof from all
her entanglements. Not so Mr. Jefferson. Such a return for her services
seemed to him but the acme of selfishness and ingratitude. It was not
bad statesmanship that made him bear so long with the blunders, the
impertinences, the fatuity of Monsieur Genet; it was the remembrance of
all the benefits showered upon us by the country which that charlatan
represented. Perhaps 'tis well that those who hold the welfare of a
nation in their hands should, like the gods, feel neither fear, nor
anger, nor love, nor hatred, nor gratitude--in a word, should be unmoved
by forces that sway the common mortal, so that, free from all earthly
claims, that nation soars away to dizzying heights of prosperity and
power. _Pro bono publico_ is a wellnigh irresistible plea. But there are
statesmen in whose code of morals national virtues are identical with
personal virtues, national crimes with personal crimes. Such a one was
Mr. Jefferson.
"No, no," he went on, musingly, filling his long pipe with the mild,
fragrant Virginia tobacco which had been shipped to him in the packet of
two months back, "we must not forget our obligations. Would that we
could pay some of the moneyed ones! The finances of this country are in
a deplorable state and there are millions of indebtedness on account of
our war. But if we cannot do that, we can, at least, give our moral aid
to those who are trying to bring about great reforms in this
kingdom--reforms which, I hope, will be carried through at the
forthcoming States-General to be held in May. Already the elections are
preparing, and some of our friends will undoubtedly represent their
orders. D'Azay and Lafayette will assuredly be nominated from the
noblesse."
"General de Lafayette and d'Azay!" said Calvert. "I should like to see
them again. The last time was at Monticello."
"Yes, yes," returned Mr. Jefferson, smiling at the pleasant
recollection of that last evening in Virginia. "Lafayette is still in
Auvergne, I believe, busy with his elections, so that I fear he will not
be here tomorrow, the evening of the weekly Legation reception. But
d'Azay will doubtless present himself, since Monsieur de Beaufort tells
us he returns tomorrow. Indeed, he and his aunt, Madame la Duchesse
d'Azay, and his sister, the lovely Madame de St. André, are among my
stanchest friends in this great city and nearly always do me the honor
to be my guests at the receptions and dinners I find it both so
agreeable and necessary to give. I have already engaged Mr. Morris's
company for the evening. It will give me great pleasure to introduce two
such Americans to the world of Paris," and he laid his hand
affectionately, in his customary fashion, on the young man's shoulder.
As Mr. Jefferson had said, he entertained frequently, and 'twas a very
brilliant society that gathered at least once a week in the salon of the
minister from the young Republic, drawn thither by policy, curiosity,
respect and admiration for Mr. Jefferson, a desire to consult him on the
important topics of the hour, and a certain freedom from constraint--a
feeling as of being on neutral ground. For already the salons of Paris
were divided against themselves. No longer simply the gatherings of
fashionable, of charming, of frivolous men and women, they had grown
somewhat serious with the seriousness of the time. In the salon of
Madame Necker gathered the solid supporters of the King, and, above
all, the solid supporters of Monsieur Necker, who was at the height of
his power and complacently ready to play the role of saviour to his
country. At the Palais Royal crowded the queer followers of Monsieur le
Duc d'Orléans, the enemies of the King. At the house of the beautiful
Théroigne de Méricourt were to be found the men of the most advanced,
the most revolutionary, ideas, the future murderers and despoilers of
France. In the salon of the exquisite Madame de Sabran flocked all those
young aristocrats, wits, sprigs of nobility, who believed in nothing in
Heaven or earth save in the Old Order. There was the serious circle
around Madame de Tessé, where new ideas were advanced and discussed, and
there was the gay circle of Madame de Beauharnais, whose chief
attractions were her delightful dinners, and who, the wits declared, had
"intended to found a salon, but had only succeeded in starting a
restaurant." Besides these, there were a dozen other important centres
representing as many different shades of political faith. But in the
salon of the American Legation gathered the best of every following,
for, although Mr. Jefferson's democratic principles were, of course,
well and widely known, yet was he so respected, his moderation and
fairness so recognized, that all considered it an honor to be his friend
and his presence a guarantee of amicable discussion and good-fellowship.
"I shall be very glad to meet your new friends, sir," said Calvert,
smiling back at Mr. Jefferson as that gentleman arose and stood with his
back to the fire, his tall, thin figure silhouetted by the firelight on
the wall (the candles were still unlit), his hands clasped lightly
behind his back, as was his wont. "I had the pleasure of meeting an old
one this afternoon."
"Indeed," said Mr. Jefferson, "and who was that?"
"A poor French private named Bertrand, who served in a company under
General de Lafayette's orders in the attack on Yorktown, and whom I had
the occasion to know rather well. I fancy," he went on, smiling a little
at the recollection of Beaufort's haughtiness, "that Beaufort was
somewhat amazed at the cordiality of our meeting."
"Beaufort!" ejaculated Mr. Jefferson, and a slight frown gathered on his
forehead. "I fancy that Beaufort and his ilk will be amazed at many
things shortly. Ned, I warn you to beware of him. He has changed greatly
since the days when he fought so gallantly under Rochambeau in our great
War of Independence. He has become an aristocrat of aristocrats, a
popinjay, a silken dandy, like most of the young nobles at this court.
He is high in the King's favor and devoted to his cause. Though your
friendships and opinions can have no official weight, as you are my
private secretary, still 'twere well to be careful, to be as neutral as
possible, to occasion no offence. And, indeed, Mr. Secretary," he went
on, shaking off his serious air and speaking in a lighter tone, "I
should be instructing you in your duties, explaining the diplomatic
situation to you, instead of discussing foolish young noblemen like
Monsieur de Beaufort."
"I shall remember your advice, Mr. Jefferson," said Calvert, quietly,
"and I am ready for any instructions and duties."
"After all, 'twill be unwise to begin them this evening," returned Mr.
Jefferson, shaking his head. "You are doubtless wearied with your
journey, and we had better postpone your induction into office until
to-morrow, when we can take the whole day for business. You can have no
idea, my dear Ned, of the numberless affairs put into our hands," he
went on, with a note of anxiety in his voice, "or with what difficulty
many of them are arranged. The constant change of ministers is most
disconcerting among the many disconcerting factors of official existence
here, and just now I am harassed by my non-success in getting from
Congress an appropriation to pay bills for medals and for the redemption
of our captives. It seems that the interest on the Dutch loans until
1790 must be paid before other claims, which leaves but a small chance
for those bills to be liquidated. By the way, to-morrow you must write
me a letter to Monsieur de Villedeuil à propos of a Mr. Nesbit and his
debts--an affair lately put into our care. But there! no business this
evening. 'Tis but a short while before dinner, which you and I will take
quite alone this evening, Ned, and you must tell me of yourself and what
you have been doing all these years at the College of Princeton."
Mr. Jefferson looked at the young man before him with such affectionate
interest that Calvert, though he was the least talkative or egotistic of
mortals, found himself telling of his college life, the vacations at
Strathore, and his visits to Philadelphia and New York.
Now and then one sees a person in the _mezzo cammin_ of his years so
happily constituted by nature as to attract and be attracted by youth.
He seems to hold some fortunate, ever-youthful principle of life denied
to the rest of us. It was so with Mr. Jefferson. Statesman, philosopher,
scientist himself, he yet numbered the young and inexperienced among his
many friends, and not one of them held so warm a place in his affections
as young Calvert of Strathore. He had received from Dr. Witherspoon the
accounts of his career at college, where, although never greatly
popular, he had won his way by his quiet self-reliance, entire
sincerity, and the accuracy and solidity of his mind rather than by any
brilliancy of intellect. These sterling gifts had first attracted Mr.
Jefferson's notice and excited his admiration and affection. The lonely
condition of the young man, too, though borne by him in that
uncomplaining fashion characteristic of him, touched Mr. Jefferson, the
more, perhaps, for the very silence and stoicism with which 'twas
supported. He was, therefore, greatly surprised when he heard Calvert
allude to it for the first time on that winter's afternoon. The young
man had taken Mr. Jefferson's place before the open fire and now stood
leaning against the chimney-piece as he talked, while Mr. Jefferson,
sitting beside the reading-table, drew deep whiffs of the fragrant
tobacco from his long pipe and listened interestedly to what Calvert had
to say, smiling now and then appreciatively. After a little the young
man ceased to speak and stood gazing meditatively into the glowing logs.
"A word more, Mr. Jefferson," he said, at length, still gazing into the
gleaming embers. As he stood so, looking down into the fire, the
flickering light leaped up and played upon his quiet face, upon the
clean-cut lips, the firm jaw, the aquiline nose, the broad, smooth brow,
from which the dark-brown hair, unpowdered, waved back, tied at the neck
with a black ribbon whose ends fell down upon the broad young shoulders.
Perhaps it was the changing light, or perhaps it was the shadow from his
uplifted hand on which he lightly leaned his head, that made his eyes
seem dark and troubled, and quite unlike their usual serene selves. As
Mr. Jefferson looked at the young man an uneasy thought took shape in
his mind that that face's cheerful expression had altered since it had
entered his doors, that the shadow of a change had somehow come upon it.
"A word more," said Calvert again, resting his foot upon one of the
burnished andirons, and removing his gaze from the flickering fire to
Mr. Jefferson's attentive face. "I believe that not in my letters, and
assuredly not since getting here, have I thanked you gratefully enough
for summoning me to you. 'Tis such an honor and a pleasure to be with
you, to work for you, that I cannot express myself as I would like, sir.
Indeed, I have long years of kindnesses, of interest, of affectionate
concern for my welfare, to thank you for. I do not think you can ever
know what all that means to one so entirely alone as I am and have been
almost since I could remember. 'Tis only in the last few years," he went
on, hurriedly, and lowering his hand still more over his serious eyes,
"that I have entirely realized what it is to be without kindred. I have
to thank you and a few other kind friends that the knowledge has been so
long withheld from me."
Mr. Jefferson looked at the young figure, with its unusual air of
sadness, bending over the firelight. Rising, he went over to him and
laid his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"There can be no question of thanks between us, Ned," he said at length,
simply. "I love you as though you were my son, and it is the greatest
pleasure to have you with me." And, indeed, it seemed so and as if he
could not do enough for his young secretary. And that night, when the
quiet dinner was over and they were ready to retire, he himself lighted
Calvert to his bed-chamber and left him with such an affectionate
good-night that the young man felt happier and more at home in that
strange house in Paris than though he had been at Strathore itself, with
no three thousand miles of vexed ocean between himself and Virginia.