MONSIEUR DE LAFAYETTE BRINGS FRIENDS TO A DINNER AT THE LEGATION
It was in the midst of the alarms, the horror, and feverish agitation
following hard upon the taking of the Bastille and the assassination and
flight of so many important personages, that Mr. Jefferson, one evening,
received from Monsieur de Lafayette a hurried note, requesting a dinner
for himself and several friends. Mr. Morris and Calvert, who were dining
with Mr. Jefferson, would have retired, that the company might be alone,
but Monsieur de Lafayette, coming in almost instantly, urged upon the
gentlemen to remain.
"Tis to be a political deliberation, at which we shall be most happy and
grateful to have you assist," he said, graciously, for, though he
disliked Mr. Morris, he appreciated his abilities, and as for Calvert,
he both liked and admired the young man, having the greatest confidence
in his good sense and keen judgment.
Mr. Jefferson, though deeply embarrassed by that thoughtlessness which
made the American Legation the rendezvous for the leaders of opposing
factions in French politics, made his unexpected guests as welcome as
possible, but, though he was urged again and again to express himself
by Lafayette and his friends--he had brought with him some of the most
brilliant and most influential of the revolutionary leaders, d'Azay,
Barnave, Lameth, Mounier, and Duport--he yet remained an almost silent
spectator of the prolonged debate which took place when the cloth had
been removed and wine placed on the table, according to the American
custom. The discussion was opened by Lafayette, who submitted to the
consideration of the assembled company his "Rights of Man," to which he
was inordinately attached and which he designed as a prelude to the new
constitution. With pride and emphasis he read aloud the most important
of his _dicta_, and which, he owned with a profound bow to Mr.
Jefferson, had been largely inspired by the great Declaration of
Independence.
"The Rights of Man" were received with acclaim and approved almost
without a dissenting voice, and then was introduced the main theme of
the discussion--the new constitution projected by the Assembly. So
incredibly frank were the deliberations that the three American
gentlemen could not but marvel that they were allowed to be present.
'Twas a curious exhibition of weakness, thought Calvert, that they
should be allowed, nay, urged, to participate in such a session. So
intimate, indeed, were the details presented to the company by its
different members, so momentous the questions raised and settled, that
even Mr. Morris, usually so impetuous, hesitated to express an opinion.
Only when it had been decided that the King should have a suspensive
veto; that the Legislature should be composed of but one chamber,
elected by the people; only when it was evident that the noblesse were
to be rendered powerless and that Lafayette had abandoned his King, did
Mr. Morris burst forth.
"This is madness, Marquis," he says, scarce able to contain himself.
"Take from the King his power and this realm will fall into anarchy, a
bloody disunion, the like of which the world has never seen! This
country is used to being governed, it must continue to be governed.
Strengthen the King's hands--for God's sake, do not weaken them! Attach
yourself to the King's party--'tis this unhappy country's only hope of
salvation. Range yourself on the side of His Majesty's authority, not on
that of this insane, uncontrollable people. What have I seen to-day? As
I walked under the arcade of the Palais Royal, what was the horrible,
the incredibly horrible sight that met my eyes? The head of one of your
chief men--of Foulon, Counsellor of State, borne aloft on a pike, the
body dragged naked on the earth, as though 'twere some dishonored slave
of Roman days. Gracious God! what a people! Have we gone backward
centuries to pagan atrocities? And you talk of making this people the
supreme authority in France! Your party is mad!"
"If 'tis madness," says Monsieur de Lafayette, coldly, "I am none the
less determined to die with them."
"'Twould be more sensible to bring them to their senses and live with
them," returned Mr. Morris, dryly.
"We cannot hope to gain the liberty, so long and so hardly withheld from
us, without bloodshed. Mr. Jefferson himself hath said that the tree of
liberty must be watered with blood."
"'Tis a different creed from the one you believed in but a short time
ago," rejoined Mr. Morris. "'Twas not very long since I heard you
prophesying a bloodless revolution. And this horde of undisciplined
troops, for which you are responsible--do you not tremble for your
authority when you deny the King's?"
"They will obey me, they love me," cried Lafayette, rising in some
confusion, not unmixed with anger. "At any rate, 'tis too late to draw
back. Our dispositions are taken, gentlemen," he adds, turning to the
company, which had risen at his signal, "and we will now withdraw,
sensible of the courtesy and hospitality we have received," and with a
bow to Mr. Morris and Calvert, he passed from the room, accompanied by
Mr. Jefferson and followed by the rest of the gentlemen.
"What madness!" exclaimed Mr. Morris, as the door closed upon the
company. "This is a country where everything is talked about and nothing
understood, my boy." He sank into a chair opposite Calvert's and poured
himself a glass of wine.
"There goes a man who, in his vanity, thinks himself capable of
controlling these terrific forces he has helped to awaken, but, if I
mistake not, he is not equal to the business in hand. He has the best
intentions, but is lacking in judgment and strength. He has le besoin de
briller, unfortunately, and does from vanity what he should do from
conviction. I am almost glad that affairs call me to England for a while
and that I shall not be a witness to the Marquis's mistakes and the
horrors toward which I see France fast drifting."
"You are leaving for England?" asked Calvert, in surprise.
"Yes," returned Mr. Morris. "I have thought for some time that it would
be necessary for me to go to London on business connected with my
brother's estate in America, and letters which I received lately have
decided me to go at once. Moreover," and here he hesitated slightly and
laughed his dry, humorous laugh, "I have ever thought discretion the
better part of valor, my boy. To speak plainly, Madame de Flahaut
becomes too exigeante. I have told her that I am perfectly my own master
with respect to her, and that, having no idea of inspiring her with a
tender passion, I have no idea either of subjecting myself to one, but I
hardly think she understands my attitude toward her. Besides," he went
on, with so sudden a change of tone and sentiment that Calvert could not
forbear smiling, "I find her too agreeable to bear with equanimity her
treatment of me. The other day, at Madame de Chastellux's, her reception
of me was such that I think I would not again have troubled her with a
visit had she not sent for me to-day."
"And did you go?" asked Calvert, smiling.
"Yes," said Mr. Morris, bursting out laughing. "Of course I went,
Ned--that is the way with all of us--the women treat us with contempt
and we go away in a huff, vowing never to see them again, and they
beckon to us and back we go, glad to have a word or glance again. She
treated me very civilly indeed, and received me at her toilet--'twas a
very decent performance, I assure you, Ned. She undressed, even to the
shift, with the utmost modesty, and I would have found it a pleasant
enough experience, if a trifle astounding to my American mind, had it
not been for the presence of the Bishop of Autun, who came in and who is
confoundedly at his ease in Madame de Flahaut's society. High ho! we two
are not the only favored ones. She is a thorough-paced flirt and plays
off Curt against Wycombe--he is Lansdowne's son and her latest
admirer--or the Bishop against myself, as it suits her whim. I would
warn you to beware of women as the authors of all mischief and
suffering, did I not think it too late," he said, looking keenly at the
young man, who blushed deeply. "Come to London with me, Ned," he went
on, impulsively, after an instant's silence. "I think you and I will not
be bad travelling companions and will enjoy the journey together
prodigiously."
"I thank you, Mr. Morris," said Calvert, shaking his head, "but--but
'tis impossible for me to leave France."
"Ah, 'tis as I thought," said Mr. Morris, slowly, "and Madame de St.
André is a most charming and beautiful woman. Forgive me for having
guessed your secret, boy. 'Tis my interest in you which makes me seem
impertinent. Have you told her that you love her?"
"'Tis a poor game to tell all one knows," says Calvert, again shaking
his head and smiling a little bitterly. "Besides, it would be but folly
in this case."
"Folly!" exclaimed Mr. Morris. "Don't be above committing follies, Ned!
Old age will be but a dreary thing if we have not the follies of youth
to look back upon. Happiness and folly go hand in hand sometimes. Don't
miss one in avoiding the other, boy! Besides, why do you call your love
for her folly? By the Lord Harry," he burst out, "why shouldn't she love
you in return? 'Tis true you are not one of the dukes or marquises who
follow her about, but I think that no disability, and, were she not a
capricious, worldly woman, she would have the wit vastly to prefer a
clean, honest American gentleman to these dissolute popinjays, whose
titles, riches, and very life are being menaced. Were I a woman, Ned,"
and he gave the young man a kindly look, "I think I could find it in my
heart to admire and respect you above most men."
"'Tis far more than I can hope for in Madame de St. André, and it has
been madness for me to think of her for a moment," said Calvert,
gloomily.
"Then come away," urged Mr. Morris. "Come with me to London." But
Calvert was not to be persuaded.
"You counselled me a while ago not to be afraid of committing follies,"
he said, looking at the older man. "I think I am capable of all folly--I
don't dare hope, but I cannot leave her."
"Ah, you are not as wise as I, my boy," returned Mr. Morris, smiling
cynically. "You stay because you care too much and I go for the same
reason. Believe me, mine is the better plan. But if you stay, speak!
Perhaps, after all, she may have the sense to appreciate you. Though she
is worldly and ambitious, there is a leaven of sincerity and purity in
her nature, I think. And then, who can guess what is in a woman's heart?
'Tis the greatest of puzzles. Who knows what you may find in Adrienne de
St. André's, Ned? She is a high-spirited creature, trained in her world
to conceal her feelings, should she be unfashionable enough to have any,
and perhaps the indifference with which she treats you is but a mask.
There are women like that, boy, who are as great actresses as Raucourt
or Contat, and who would die before they betrayed themselves, just as
there are women to whom candor is as natural as breathing and who can no
more help showing the depth and tenderness of their hearts than the sun
can help shining. And now," he said, rising as Mr. Jefferson entered the
room, "I must be going or I shall be imprudent enough to make some
observations on the extraordinary proceedings of this evening."
"Extraordinary indeed," said Mr. Jefferson, with a troubled air, as he
seated himself. "I shall wait upon Montmorin in the morning and explain
how it has happened that the American Legation has been the rendezvous
for the political leaders of France. But though this affair has deeply
embarrassed me, I would not, for a great deal, have missed hearing the
coolness and candor of argument, the logical reasoning and chaste
eloquence of the discussion this evening. Would that it had all been
employed in a better cause! It seems almost pitiful that these men
should be battling for a King who, though meaning well toward the
nation, is swayed absolutely by a Queen, proud, disdainful of all
restraint, concerned only in the present pleasure, a gambler and
intrigante. Dr. Franklin and I have seen her in company with d'Artois
and Coigny and the Duchesse de Polignac, than whom there is no more
infamous woman in France, gambling and looking on at the wild dances and
buffoonery of a guinguette, and, though her _incognita_ was respected,
think you the people did not know the Queen? 'Tis to preserve the throne
of a woman such as that that Lafayette and d'Azay and Barnave bend all
their powerful young energies and talents and may, perhaps, give their
young lives!"
"There are those who think differently about Louis and Marie Antoinette,
and who consider the Queen the better man of the two," replied Mr.
Morris, dryly. "But 'tis past my patience, the whole thing, and I can
scarce trust myself to think of it. By the way, Ned," he said, suddenly
turning to Calvert, "'twas that villain Bertrand, that protégé of yours,
who was carrying the head of that poor devil, Foulon, on his pike this
afternoon. I recognized the fellow instantly, and I think he knew me,
too, though he was near crazed with blood and excitement. He handed the
bike to a companion and slunk into the crowd when he saw me. Have a care
of him, boy. 'Twas the most awful sight my eyes ever rested on! And now,
good-night." At the door he looked back and saw Mr. Jefferson filling
his long pipe with fragrant Virginia tobacco and Calvert still sitting
beside the table with the troubled look on his thoughtful young face.
A week later, after having bidden good-by to his friends in Versailles
and Paris and having obtained a passport from Lafayette at the Hôtel de
Ville, he set out for London, from which capital he did not return until
the middle of September.