“And you will see, Ned,” added Mr. Morris, joining in the laugh, “that nothing will be done—­unless ’tis to appoint a minister to the United States.  ’Tis my conviction that Mr. Pitt has determined, in spite of his suavity and apparent friendliness, to make no move in this matter—­he hasn’t that damned long, obstinate upper lip for nothing, boy.  He is all for looking after home affairs and doesn’t want to meddle with any foreign policy.  I think he is not wise or great enough to look abroad and seize the opportunities that offer.  As Charles Fox said—­I met him the other evening at dinner at Mrs. Church’s—­’Pitt was a lucky man before he was a great one,’ and I am inclined to agree with him.  But I am convinced that they mean to hold the frontier posts and refuse all indemnity for the slaves taken away.  And as for the commercial treaty—­this country is too powerful just now to be willing to give us fair terms.  We could make but a poor bargain with her now, one which we would probably soon regret, and so I shall write the President.”

Affairs eventuated exactly as Mr. Morris had predicted, and, although he conducted the embassy with the greatest possible address, shrewdness, and persistence, this failure was made much of in America, and used as an argument against his later appointment as minister to France.

One of the greatest pleasures of Mr. Calvert’s stay in London was the unexpected presence there of Mr. Gilbert Stuart.  The Queen, wishing to have a portrait of the King, and fearing lest another attack of that dreadful malady from which the poor gentleman had temporarily recovered, should assail him, had commanded Mr. Stuart’s presence from Dublin, where he was by invitation of the Duke of Rutland.  The royal commission having been executed, Mr. Stuart was passing a few weeks in London with his friend and former patron, Benjamin West, when he met Calvert at a dinner at the house of General and Mrs. Morris.  He recognized the young man instantly and reverted to their former meeting at Monticello.  “And I promised both myself and Mr. Jefferson to paint a portrait of you, sir,” he said, smiling.  “I am to be in London for some weeks, and, if you are to be here, too, what time could be more propitious than the present?”

Calvert’s assurance that he was in town indefinitely delighted Mr. Stuart.

“Then I must have that sketch of you I have so long promised myself, and we will send a replica to Mr. Jefferson.  From the affectionate manner in which he spoke of you, I think I could send him no more acceptable present, Mr. Calvert,” he said, speaking with great animation.  “I shall beg a corner of Mr. West’s studio, and we must begin our sittings at once.”