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 Cafe de l’Ecole, 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