"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.