Calvert of Strathore

Carter Goodloe

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• Publié par: anyya
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 41
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Calvert of Strathore, by Carter Goodloe This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Calvert of Strathore Author: Carter Goodloe Release Date: March 23, 2004 [EBook #11690] Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALVERT OF STRATHORE *** Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed Proofreaders CALVERT OF STRATHORE BY CARTER GOODLOE 1903CONTENTS I. The Legation at Paris II. The France Of 1789 III. "The Lass with the Delicate Air" IV. At the Palais Royal V. The Private Secretary VI. Mr. Calvert Meets Old and New Friends VII. An Afternoon on the Ice VIII. The Americans are Made Welcome in Paris IX. In which Mr. Calvert's Good Intentions Miscarry X. At Versailles XI. Mr. Calvert Attends the King's Levee XII. The Fourth and the Fourteenth of July XIII. Monsieur de Lafayette Brings Friends to a Dinner at the Legation XIV. Mr. Calvert Rides Down into Touraine XV. Christmas Eve XVI. Mr. Calvert Tries to Forget XVII. Mr. Calvert Meets an Old Enemy XVIII. Mr. Calvert Fights a Duel XIX. In which an Unlooked-for Event Takes Place XX. Mr. Calvert Sees a Short Campaign under Lafayette XXI. Mr. Calvert Quits the Army and Engages in a Hazardous Enterprise XXII. Mr. Calvert Starts on a Journey XXIII. Within the Palace XXIV. The Tenth of AugustCALVERT OF STRATHMORECHAPTER I THE LEGATION AT PARIS There seemed to be some unusual commotion, a suppressed excitement, about the new and stately American Legation at Paris on the morning of the 3d of February in the year of grace (but not for France—her days and years of grace were over!) 1789. The handsome mansion at the corner of the Grande Route des Champs Elysées and the rue Neuve de Berry, which had lately belonged to Monsieur le Comte de l'Avongeac and in which Mr. Jefferson had installed himself as accredited minister to France after the return of Dr. Franklin to America, presented an appearance different from its usual quiet. Across the courtyard, covered with snow fallen during the might, which glittered and sparkled in the brilliant wintry sunshine, grooms and stable-boys hurried between écuries and remises, currying Mr. Jefferson's horses and sponging off Mr. Jefferson's handsome carriage, with which he had provided himself on setting up his establishment as minister of the infant federation of States to the court of the sixteenth Louis. At the porter's lodge that functionary frequently left his little room, with its brazier of glowing coals, and walked up and down beneath the porte-cochère, flapping his arms vigorously in the biting wintry air, and glancing between the bars of the great outer gate up and down the road as if on the lookout for some person or persons. In the hotel itself, servants moved quickly and quietly about, setting everything in the most perfect order. At one of the windows which gave upon the extensive gardens, covered, like all else, with the freshly fallen snow, Mr. Jefferson himself could now and then be seen as he moved restlessly about the small, octagonal room, lined with books and littered with papers, in which he conducted most of his official business. A letter, just finished, lay upon his desk. 'Twas to his daughter in her convent of Panthemont, and full of that good advice which no one ever knew how to give better than he. The letter being folded and despatched by a servant, Mr. Jefferson was at liberty to indulge his restless mood. This he did, walking up and down with his hands clasped behind his back, as was his fashion; but, in spite of the impatience of his manner, a smile, as of some secret contentment or happy anticipation, played about his lips. At frequent intervals he would station himself at one of the windows which commanded the entrance of the hotel, and, looking anxiously out at the wintry scene, would consult the splendid new watch just made for him, at great cost, by Monsieur l'Epine. It was on the stroke of twelve by Monsieur l'Epine's watch when Mr. Jefferson, gazing out of the window for the twentieth time that morning of February 3d, saw a large travelling berline turn in at the big grille and draw up under the porte- cochère in front of the porter's lodge. In an instant he was out of the room, down the great stairway, and at the entrance of the rez-de-chaussée, just as the postilion, dismounting, opened the door of the carriage from which emerged a large, handsome man of about thirty-five or six, who moved with surprising agility considering the fact that he boasted but one good leg, the other member being merely a wooden stump. He was followed by a younger man, who sprang out and waited respectfully, but eagerly, until Mr. Jefferson had welcomed his companion. "Mr. Morris!—my dear sir! welcome to Paris! welcome to this little spot of America!" said Mr. Jefferson, shaking the older man cordially by the hand again and again and drawing him toward the open door. And then passing quickly out upon the step to where the young man still stood looking on at this greeting, Mr. Jefferson laid a hand affectionately on his shoulder and looked into the young eyes. "My dear boy, my dear Calvert!" he exclaimed with emotion, "I cannot tell you how welcome you are, nor how I thank you for obeying my request to come to me!" "The kindest command I could have received, sir," replied the young man, much moved by Mr. Jefferson's affectionate words and manner. Turning, and linking an arm in that of each of his guests, Mr. Jefferson led them into the house, followed by the servants carrying their travelling things. "Ah! we will bring back Virginia days in the midst of this turbulent, mad Paris. 'Tis a wild, bad place I have brought you to, Ned," he said, turning to the young gentleman, "but it must all end in good—surely, surely." Mr. Jefferson's happy mood seemed suddenly to cloud over, and he spoke absently and almost as if reassuring himself. "But come," he added, brightening up, "I will not talk of such things before we are fairly in the house! Welcome again, Mr. Morris! Welcome, Mr. Secretary!"—he turned to Calvert—"It seems strange, but most delightful, to have you here." Talking in such fashion, he hurried them up the great stairway as fast as Mr. Morris's wooden leg would permit, and into his private study. "Ha! a fire!" said Mr. Morris, sinking down luxuriously in a chair before the blazing logs. "I had almost forgot what the sight of one was like, and I was beginning to wish that this"—he looked down and tapped his sound leg, laughing a little whimsically, "were wood, too. I would have suffered less with the cold!" "I am sure you must have had a bitter journey from Havre," rejoined Mr. Jefferson. "'Tis the coldest winter France has known for eighty years—the hardest, cruellest winter the poor of this great city, of this great country, can remember. Would to God it were over and the spring here!" "I should imagine that it had not been any too pleasant even for the rich," said Mr. Morris, shivering slightly. But Mr.Jefferson paid no attention to the sufferings of the rich suggested by Mr. Morris, and only stirred the blazing logs uneasily. "At any rate it serves to make our welcome here seem the warmer, sir," said Calvert, from where he stood divesting himself of his many-caped top-coat. "Ah! that is spoken like you, Ned! But stand forth, sir! Let me see if you are changed, if four years at the College of Princeton have made another fellow of my old Calvert of Strathore." He went over to the young man and drew him into the middle of the room, where the cold, brilliant sunshine struck full on the fine young face. There was no shadow or line upon it. "You are much grown," said Mr. Jefferson, thoughtfully, "much taller, but 'tis the same slender, athletic figure, and the eyes and brow and mouth are not changed, thank God!" "Is there no improvement, sir? Can you note no change for the better?" said Calvert, laughing, and attempting to cover his embarrassment, at the close scrutiny he was undergoing. "But I fear not. I fear my college life has left as little impress on my mind as on my body. I shall never be a scholar like you, sir," he added, with a sigh. "And yet, in spite of your disinclination to study, you have gone through college, and most creditably. Dr. Witherspoon himself has written me of your career. Does that say nothing in your favor?" "To be sure it does," broke in Mr. Morris, laughing. "There is no merit in being a scholar like Mr. Jefferson here, who was born a student. He couldn't have helped being a scholar if he had tried. But for you, Mr. Calvert, who dislike study, to have made yourself stick to the college curriculum for four years, I consider a great and meritorious achievement!" "I agree with you entirely, Mr. Morris," said Mr. Jefferson, joining in the laugh, "and as for that, Ned has done more than merely stick to the curriculum of the college. Dr. Witherspoon, in writing me of his progress, was pleased to say many complimentary things of several excursions into verse which he has made. He especially commended his lines on 'A View of Princeton College,' written something after the manner of Mr. Gray's 'Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.'" "What!" said Mr. Morris, "an ode on 'A View of Princeton College'! My dear Mr. Calvert, couldn't a young man of your years find a more inspiring theme than a college building to write upon? Instead of an alma mater, you should have chosen some filia pulchra to make verses to," and he gave Mr. Jefferson a quizzical look. "I agree with you again, Mr. Morris," said that gentleman, laughing heartily, "and I think that you and I would have made no such mistake at Ned's age," and he sighed a little as he thought of the gay pleasures of his own youth, the dances and walks and talks with "Belinda,