THE FOURTH AND THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY
For the next few weeks Mr. Calvert had little time--and, indeed, little
inclination--to see Adrienne. The discovery that he loved her had
brought pain, not happiness with it. He felt the gulf too wide between
them, both in circumstance and character, to be bridged. How could he,
an untitled American, an unknown young gentleman of small fortune,
pretend to the hand of one of the most beautiful, most aristocratic, and
most capricious women in Paris? He smiled to himself as he mentally
compared Adrienne with the simple young beauties of Virginia he had
known--with Miss Molly Crenshawe and Miss Peggy Gary--and he wondered a
little bitterly why he could not have fallen happily in love with some
one of his own countrywomen, whose heart he could have won and kept,
instead of falling a victim to the charms of a dazzling creature quite
beyond his reach. With that clear good sense which was ever one of his
most distinguishing traits, he fully comprehended the difficulties, the
impossibility of a happy ending of his passion, and, having no desire to
play the rôle of the disconsolate lover, he again determined to see as
little of Adrienne as possible.
For a while circumstances favored this decision. The French government,
being entirely absorbed in domestic affairs, Mr. Jefferson found himself
with more leisure than he had known for some time, and, being enormously
interested in the organization of the States-General, and realizing that
their proceedings were of the first order of importance, he drove almost
daily from Paris to Versailles to assist at their stormy deliberations.
Mr. Calvert attended him thither at his express wish, for he had the
young man's diplomatic education greatly at heart, and desired him to
profit by the debates in the Salle des Menus. In this way the young
gentleman found his days completely filled, while the evenings were
frequently as busily occupied in the preparation of letters for the
American packet, dictated by Mr. Jefferson and narrating the day's
events. Of things to be written there was no lack. Day after day,
through the hot months of May and June, events succeeded one another
rapidly. Tempestuous debates among the noblesse, the clergy, and the
tiers état, upon the question of the verification of their powers,
separately and together, were followed by proposition and
counter-proposition, by commissions of conciliation which did not
conciliate, by royal letters commanding a fusion of the three orders, by
secessions from the nobility and clergy to the grimly determined and
united tiers, by courtly intrigues at Marly for the King's favor in
behalf of the nobles, by royal séances and ruses which, instead of
postponing, only hastened the evil hour, by the famous oath of the
Tennis Court, and by the triumph of the third estate. And in this
distracting clash of opposing political forces, amid this first crash
and downfall of the ancient order of things, there passed, almost
unnoticed, save by the weeping Queen and harassed King, who hung over
his pillow, the last sigh, the last childish words of the Dauphin. The
tired little royal head, which had been greeted eight years before with
such acclamations of enthusiastic delight, dropped wearily and all
unnoticed for the last time, happily ignorant of the martyr's crown it
had escaped. Calvert had the news from Madame de Montmorin when he went
to pay his respects to her on the evening of the 3d of June, and in
imagination he saw, over and over again, the lovely face of the Queen
distorted with unavailing grief.
All these public occurrences which filled the hurrying days were
reported in Mr. Jefferson's long letters to General Washington, to the
Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Jay, to Mr. Madison, Mr. Carmichael,
and other friends in America, whom he knew to be deeply interested in
the trend of French affairs. Indeed, he knew fully whereof he wrote,
for, although in that summer of '89 the position of the United States in
relation to Europe was anything but enviable, though we were deeply in
debt and our credit almost gone, though England and Spain turned us the
cold shoulder, though our enemies were diligently circulating damaging
stories of the disunion, the bankruptcy, the agitation in American
affairs, yet so friendly was the French government to us, so deep the
personal respect and admiration for Mr. Jefferson as the representative
of the infant republic, that he was consulted by the leaders of all
parties and received the confidences of the most influential men of the
day. So close, indeed, was his connection with the ministers in power
that, during the early days of June and in pursuance of an idea which
had occurred to him during a conversation with Lafayette, Mr. Short, and
Monsieur de St. Étienne, he drew up a paper for the consideration of the
King, which, if it had received the royal sanction, might have produced
the best results. It was a charter of those rights which the King was
willing, nay, glad, to grant, but it was Mr. Jefferson's earnest
conviction that Louis should come forward with this charter of his own
free will and offer it to his people, to be signed by himself and every
member of the National Assembly. But the King's timidity and the
machinations of Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois prevented this plan from
coming to anything. Mr. Jefferson, thinking, perhaps, that his zeal had
over-stepped his discretion, refused again to take an active part in the
politics of the day, and declined the invitation of the Archbishop of
Bordeaux to attend the deliberations of the committee for the "first
drafting" of a constitution.
"My mission is to the King as Chief Magistrate of France," said Mr.
Jefferson to His Grace of Bordeaux, "and deeply as I am interested in
the affairs of your country, my duties concern my own. But I have
requested from Congress a leave of absence for a few months, that I may
return to America and settle some important private business, and as
General Washington and other friends will be only too anxious to hear a
detailed and recent account of the progress of events here, I shall
esteem it both my duty and pleasure to acquaint myself with them as
fully as may be, without transcending the limits of my office."
This leave of absence which Mr. Jefferson had solicited for some time
was anxiously awaited, but packet after packet arrived without it. It
had been his hope to receive the authority of Congress for his departure
during the early spring, that he might return to Virginia, leaving
affairs in the hands of Calvert and Mr. Short, and return before cold
weather set in again, but the end of June was at hand and still no word
from Congress.
As it was evident that Mr. Jefferson was not to get away from Paris for
some time, he determined to celebrate the Fourth of July at the Legation
with proper ceremony, and invited quite a little company to dinner for
that day. Among the guests were Madame la Duchesse d'Azay, Adrienne,
Monsieur and Madame de Montmorin, Monsieur and Madame de Lafayette,
Madame de Tessé, Mr. Morris, Beaufort, Calvert, and Mr. Short.
The Duchess of Azay had accepted her invitation with characteristic
brusqueness.
"I don't approve of your Fourth of July, Monsieur Jefferson," she said,
"but I always approve of a good dinner, and your wines are so excellent
that I dare say I shall drink your toasts, too." "I promise you there
shall be none to offend the most ardent royalist," returned Mr.
Jefferson, laughing at the old woman's sturdy independence. And so she
had come, and Madame de St. André with her, though Adrienne, too, was a
stanch royalist, and had not been carried away by the popular enthusiasm
for liberty and Monsieur de Lafayette which was spreading like wildfire
through all ranks of Parisian society.
"I am here, not because I am so greatly in love with your fine American
principles," she said to Calvert, who was seated beside her at the
table, "but because I like your Mr. Jefferson. For myself, I vastly
prefer a king and a court, and I like titles and rank and power--all of
which is heresy in your American ears, is it not?" she asked, with a
perverse look. "However, Henri's enthusiasm is enough for us both," she
said, smiling a little scornfully at her brother, who, indeed, was quite
wild with enthusiasm, and was on his feet drinking Lafayette's toast of
"Long life and prosperity to the United States!"
"Get up, Ned!" he says to Calvert. "We are drinking to your country! We
ought to have a toast to Yorktown--see, Mr. Morris is going to give it
to us now--'The French at Yorktown!'"
But there was another toast still more vociferously greeted, for the
long-delayed American packet having arrived three days before at Havre,
Mr. Jefferson was that morning in receipt of letters from Mr. Jay and
others containing news of the first importance. It was nothing less than
the announcement of the election of General Washington to the first
Presidency of the United States, and of his inauguration on the 13th of
April in New York City.
"'The oath was administered by Chancellor Livingston,'" says Mr.
Jefferson, reading from Mr. Jay's letter, "'in the presence of a vast
concourse of people assembled to witness the inauguration. The
President, appearing upon the balcony, bowed again and again to the
cheering multitude, but could scarcely speak for emotion.' 'Tis a
strange and happy coincidence that we should have this news on this day.
I give you 'President Washington!'" says Mr. Jefferson, solemnly.
There were tears of joy in Lafayette's eyes as he drank the toast.
"It makes me think of that last night at Monticello, Ned," he said,
turning to Calvert, "when we toasted General Washington and bade
farewell to Mr. Jefferson."
"'Tis a far cry from Paris to Monticello, Marquis," said Calvert,
smiling, "and 'tis a little strange that we should all be gathered here
as we were there, discussing our dear General."
"And so your demi-god, your General Washington, is elected to the
Presidency," said Adrienne, speaking to Calvert. "'Tis unnecessary to
ask whether the choice meets with your approval."
"There could be none other, Madame," returned Calvert.
"You are a loyal admirer of General Washington's, Monsieur. I see you
know how to approve as well as to rebuke. 'Tis much pleasanter to be
approved of than to be rebuked, as I know by personal experience," said
Adrienne, with a slight blush and a half glance at Calvert. She was so
lovely as she spoke, there was such sunny laughter in her blue eyes,
that Calvert gazed at her, lost in guilty wonder as to how he could ever
have doubted this beautiful creature, how he could ever have condemned
her by a thought. The inscrutable look in his serious eyes embarrassed
her.
"Of what are you thinking, Monsieur?" she asked, after an instant's
silence.
"I was wondering who could have the audacity to rebuke Madame de St.
André."
"'Twas a very rash young gentleman from General Washington's country,"
returned Adrienne, smiling suddenly, "who, by his courage, saved Madame
de St. André from the consequences of a foolish action, and who had the
still greater courage to silently, but unmistakably, show his
disapprobation of her."
"'Tis impossible that he should be a fellow-countryman of mine, Madame,"
said Calvert, smiling, too. "It would indeed be a rash and
ill-considered person who could find fault with Madame de St. André."
"Another compliment, Monsieur Calvert! That is the second one you have
given me. If you are not more careful I shall begin to doubt your
sincerity! I am not jesting, sir," she says, suddenly serious. "I know
not quite why I trust you so implicitly, but so it is, and, as sincerity
is a rare virtue in our world, I should hate to lose my belief in
yours. It takes no very keen vision to see my faults, sir. I recognize
and deplore them," and she looked at the young man in so winning and
frank a fashion as she rose from the table, that Calvert thought to
himself for the hundredth time that he had never seen anyone so
incomparably beautiful and charming.
Although Paris was unbearably hot and dusty in that month of July, all
the world stayed in town or drove no farther than Versailles to attend
the meetings of the National Assembly. Political excitement and interest
were intense, and were stimulated every day by the events taking place.
But through it all the higher classes feasted and made merry, as though
bent on literally obeying the biblical injunction. Mr. Morris, whose
success in society continued prodigious, could scarce find the time for
his numerous engagements, and was seen everywhere, often in company with
Mr. Calvert, of whom he was extremely fond. Indeed, he urged upon
Calvert the acceptance of many invitations which the latter would have
declined, having an affectionate regard for the young man and a pride in
the popularity which Mr. Calvert had won absolutely without effort and
in spite of the lack of all brilliant social qualities. Wherever they
went Madame de St. André was of the party. Perhaps 'twas this fact,
rather than a wish to comply with Mr. Morris's requests, that induced
Calvert to accept the many invitations extended to him, and, in the
constant delight and charm of Adrienne's presence, his caution deserted
him and he gradually found himself forgetting the wide gulf between
them, of which he had thought so much at first, and eagerly watching for
her wherever he went. He was engaged for innumerable pleasure-parties,
dinners à la matelote, evenings with Madame de Chastellux, when the Abbé
Délille read his verses, the theatre and opera with Gardell and Vestris,
about whom all Paris was wild, and water-picnics on the Seine. In early
June, at the express wish of the Duchesse d'Orléans, Mr. Calvert and Mr.
Morris, with Madame d'Azay and Adrienne, made a visit to Her Highness at
Raincy. The gardens and park of this old castle were so beautiful that
Calvert would have liked nothing better than to linger in them with
Adrienne for all the long summer day, but the Duchess, being very
devout, demanded the presence of her guests in the chapel of the chateau
to hear mass. Mr. Calvert read another sign of the times in the conduct
of Monsieur de Ségur and Monsieur de Cubières during mass, who furnished
immoderate amusement to Her Highness's guests by putting lighted candles
in the pockets of the Abbé Délille while he was on his knees.
"Truly an edifying example to the domestics opposite and the villagers
worshipping below," thought Calvert to himself. "If they but knew what
triflers these beings are whom they look up to as their superiors, their
respect would be transformed to contempt." And this thought occurred to
him again when, at dinner, which was served under a large marquise on
the terrace of the chateau, a crowd of the common people gathered at a
respectful distance and looked enviously at the exalted company as it
dined.
It was at one of these numerous pleasure-parties with which Paris sought
to banish care and anxiety that Mr. Calvert and Mr. Morris first heard
the astounding news of Necker's dismissal, which woke the city from its
false trance of security. They were at the hôtel of the Maréchal de
Castries, whither they had driven for breakfast, when his frightened
secretary, calling him from the table, told him the news which he had
just heard. Monsieur de Castries, containing himself with difficulty
during the rest of the meal, at which was gathered a large and mixed
company, drew the American gentlemen aside as soon as possible and
confided to them the disastrous intelligence he had just received.
"The King sent Monsieur de la Luzerne with the message," he said. "He
found Necker at dinner, and, exacting a promise of absolute secrecy,
delivered to him the King's decree. Without a word Monsieur Necker
proposed to his wife a visit to some friends, but went instead to his
place at St. Ouen, and at midnight set out for Brussels."
"What madness!" exclaimed Mr. Morris. "Does the King, then, not realize
that he is no longer the power in the state? The National Assembly will
not tolerate Necker's dismissal. Will you not go instantly to Versailles
and try to undo this fatal blunder of the King?" he asked. Monsieur de
Castries shook his head despondingly.
"'Tis too late."
"Come, Ned, we will go to Mr. Jefferson's and see whether he has heard
this terrible news," said Mr. Morris, who was deeply affected by the
intelligence.
Together they entered Mr. Morris's carriage and drove toward the
Legation. As they made their way along the boulevards, they were
astonished to see pedestrians and carriages suddenly turn about and come
toward them. In a few moments a troop of German cavalry, with drawn
sabres, approached at a hand gallop, and, on reaching the Place Louis
Quinze, Mr. Morris and Mr. Calvert found themselves confronted by an
angry mob of several hundred persons, who had intrenched themselves
among the great blocks of stone piled there for the new bridge building.
At the same instant, on looking back, they perceived that the cavalry
had faced about and were returning, so that they found themselves hemmed
in between the troops and the menacing mob. Many other carriages were
caught in the same cul-de-sac, and Calvert, looking out, saw the pale
face of Madame de St. André at the window of her carriage beside him.
Her coachman was trying in vain to get his horses through the crowd and
was looking confoundedly frightened. In an instant Calvert was out of
his carriage and at her coach-door.
"You must get in Mr. Morris's carriage, Madame," he says, briefly,
holding the door open and extending a hand to Adrienne. At his tone of
command, without a word, she stepped quickly from her coach into that of
Mr. Morris.
"Heavens, Madame! are you alone in this mob?" asks Mr. Morris, in much
concern.
"Yes--I have just left my aunt in the rue St. Honoré," says Adrienne,
sinking down on the cushions. Mr. Morris put his head out of the window.
"Drive on, Martin!" he calls out. "To Mr. Jefferson's." But it is
impossible for the plunging horses to move, so dense is the mob and so
threatening its attitude.
"They are arming themselves with stones," he says, looking out again.
"We are in a pretty pass between this insane mob and the cavalry, which
is advancing!" Suddenly he bursts the door open and, standing on the
coach-step, so that he is well seen, he calls out, "Drive on there,
Martin! Who stops an American's carriage in Paris?"
As he made his appearance at the coach-door a shout went up, and a man
standing near and pointing to Mr. Morris's wooden stump, cries out,
"Make way for the American patriot crippled in the Revolution!" At his
words a great cheer goes up, and Mr. Morris, scrambling back into the
coach, bursts out into such a hearty laugh that Calvert, and Adrienne,
too, in spite of her fright, cannot refrain from joining in it. The
people fall back and a lane is formed, through which Martin urges his
horses at a gallop.
"'Twill be a good story to tell Mr. Jefferson," says Mr. Morris, when he
can speak. "I think this wooden stump has never done such yeoman service
as to-day."
"If I am not mistaken, that was my friend Bertrand," says Calvert,
looking back at the man who had started the cheer for Mr. Morris.
They had scarce got through the mob when the cavalry, advancing, were
met by a shower of stones.
"The captain is hit," says Calvert, still looking out of the
coach-window. Pale with fear, Adrienne laid her hand on his arm and
Calvert covered it with one of his. In a few minutes they were out of
sight of the fray and, driving as rapidly as possible up the Champs
Elysées, were soon at the door of the Legation.
Mr. Jefferson was not at home, but in a few moments he came in with the
account of having been stopped also at the Place Louis Quinze as he
returned from a visit to Monsieur de Lafayette and a confirmation of the
news regarding Necker's dismissal.
"It is sufficiently clear with what indignation the people regard the
presence of troops in the city," he said, "and by to-morrow they will
make known, I have no doubt, their equally bitter indignation at the
removal of Necker. Affairs are coming rapidly to a crisis; the Palais
Royal is this evening in a state of the wildest agitation, so d'Azay has
just told me, and, indeed, the city is not safe, even on the boulevards.
I shall take you back, Madame," he went on, turning to Adrienne. "I
believe the carriage of the American Minister will be treated with
respect even by this insane mob."
"A thousand thanks, Monsieur," said Madame de St. André, rising, "and,
as it is late, perhaps we had better go at once, although I hate to
take you away from Monsieur Morris and Monsieur Calvert."
"Oh, as for me, I am off to the Club to hear further details of the riot
and afterward to a supper with Madame de Flahaut. And as for Ned, I am
sure he would rather a thousand times escort you back to the rue St.
Honoré than to sit here chatting with an old fellow like myself," said
Mr. Morris, and he went off limping and laughing, leaving the others to
follow quickly. For, in truth, it was late, and the disturbance seemed
to be increasing instead of decreasing as the night wore on. Mr.
Jefferson and Calvert turned into the Palais Royal on their way back,
after leaving Adrienne safe in the rue St. Honoré, and found it a
seething mass of revolutionary humanity, as d'Azay had reported. The
agitation increased all during the following day of the 13th, and on the
14th was struck the first great blow which resounded throughout France.
Mr. Jefferson and Calvert, who, unconscious of the disturbance in the
distant quarter of the Bastille, were calling at the hotel of Monsieur
de Corny, had the particulars from that gentleman himself. He came in
hurriedly, pale with emotion and fear and haggard with anxiety.
"Tis all over," he says to Mr. Jefferson when he could speak. "How it
has happened God only knows. A fearful crime has been committed. The
deputation, of which I was one, advanced, under a flag of truce, to have
speech with de Launay, Governor of the Bastile, when a discharge killed
several men standing near us. We retired, and instantly the great
throng of people--there were, God knows, how many thousand wretches
waiting there--rushed forward, and are even now in possession of that
impregnable fortification. 'Tis incredible how 'twas done."
"And de Launay?" inquired Calvert.
"He has been beheaded and dragged to the Place de Grève," says de Corny,
gloomily. "Come, if you wish to see the work of destruction," and he
rose hurriedly.
Together the gentlemen entered Mr. Jefferson's carriage, which was
waiting, and were driven along the boulevards toward the Bastille. But
the streets near the prison were so crowded with spectators and armed
ruffians that they were finally forced to alight from the carriage,
which was left in the Place Royale, and proceed on foot. As they passed
Monsieur Beaumarchais's garden, they came upon Mr. Morris and Madame de
Flahaut, who had also driven thither and were leaning against the fence
looking on at the work of demolition.
"You should have been here some moments ago," said Mr. Morris.
"Lafayette has just ridden by with the key of the Bastille, which has
been given to him and which, he tells me, he proposes sending to General
Washington. A strange gift!"
"Why strange?" inquired Mr. Jefferson. "'Tis an emblem of hard-earned
liberty."
"An emblem of madness," said Mr. Morris, with a shrug. "However, I have
witnessed some thrilling scenes in this madness. But an hour ago a
fellow climbed upon the great iron gate and, failing to bring it down,
implored his comrades to pull him by the legs, thus sustaining the rack.
He had the courage and strength to hold on until his limbs were torn
from the sockets. 'Twould make a great painting, and I shall suggest the
idea to d'Angiviliers."
"Do they know of this at Versailles?" asked Calvert.
"The Duc de Liancourt passed in his carriage half an hour ago," said Mr.
Morris, "on his way to Versailles to inform the King. Yesterday it was
the fashion at Versailles not to believe that there were any
disturbances at Paris. I presume that this day's transactions will
induce a conviction that all is not perfectly quiet! But, even with this
awful evidence, the King is capable of not being convinced, I venture to
say." He was quite right in his surmise, and 'twas not until two o'clock
in the morning that Monsieur de Liancourt was able to force his way into
the King's bed-chamber and compel His Majesty to listen to a narrative
of the awful events of the day in Paris.
In the meantime crowds of the greatest ladies and gentlemen flocked to
the Place de la Bastille to witness the strange and horrid scenes there
enacting, rubbing elbows with the armed and drunken scum of the city,
and only retiring when night hid the sight of it all from them. It was
amid a very carnival of mad liberty, of flaring lights and hideous
noises, of fantastic and terrible figures thrusting their infuriated
countenances in at the coach-windows, with a hundred orders to halt and
to move on, a hundred demands to know if there were arms in the
carriage, that Mr. Jefferson and Calvert finally regained the Champs
Elysées and the American Legation. With the next day the foreign troops
were dismissed by order of the frightened King, and Paris had an armed
Milice Bourgeoise of forty thousand men, at the head of which, to Mr.
Jefferson's satisfaction and Mr. Morris's dismay, Lafayette was placed
as commander-in-chief. From the 16th to the 18th of that fatal July
twenty noble cowards, among them Monsieur de Broglie, Monsieur de St.
Aulaire, six princes of the blood royal, including the Comte d'Artois
and the Princes of Condé and Conti, fled affrighted before the first
gust of the storm gathering over France.