party which refused concession, while the reformers were dominated by a faction which demanded more than Jefferson outlined. No compromise could be made, and the Revolution rolled on.

Having seen for himself the miserable condition of the French peasantry, the interest with which Mr. Jefferson regarded the opening scenes of the Revolution may be imagined.

He saw the notables called together, the high heads of Church and State. He saw them cling to their privileges, refusing to yield anything. They were prosperous, they considered the system a glorious system. It had been good enough for their fathers; it was good enough for them. Surrender their privileges! Give up feudal dues! Tax themselves! Grant relief to the peasants! Never in the world!

The high heads go as they came, very high, indeed.

But something must be done. The King needs money. And the people, so it is said, are on the point of starvation. The States-General is called, and Mr. Jefferson attends the opening scene. He witnesses the preliminary struggle over the question of one general assembly, where each deputy shall have one vote, or three separate assemblies, where any one chamber can veto the action of the others. A vital issue, for the assembly of the nobles would veto the acts of the commons, even if

the assembly of the higher clergy did not. Mr. Jefferson is there when the royal sitting is held, and when the King in person commands the deputies to separate into three houses; there when deputies remain after the King has gone; there when Mirabeau thunders his famous refusal to get out.

He is deep in the counsels of the reformers all along here. King-bearding is a pastime he is fond of; he has bearded a King before. Tradition says that it was he who advised the commons to declare themselves the assembly, leaving it to the other two classes to say whether they would join or not.1

He is present at the very first collision between the people and the troops; he is there when the Bastile is stormed; there when the gory head of poor old De Launay-from the end of a pike-stares upon the wild multitudes of Paris. Mr. Jefferson is in Paris when the King is brought from Versailles to have the badge of Revolution pinned in his coat and its watchwords practised on his lips. He is there on that memorable night in August when feudalism is offered up, a burnt offering, to appease the wrath of gods and men. Sages take their places to write a Constitution for the new France, and they invite Mr. Jefferson to be present and to help—an invitation which flatters, but which must be declined. All the time that he is heart and

'The British ambassador to France, the Duke of Dorset, wrote that Jefferson gave the advice here alluded to.

soul with the reformers he urges them not to attempt too much now. Leave something to time. By demanding too much, you may lose all. Go slow.

They all respect him, confide in him, look up to him. Around him is the halo of the success of the American Revolution. He is an authority—a soldier in the sacred cause of civil liberty, whose laurels are still fresh.

Barnave, who was not afraid to cross swords even with Mirabeau, is to be seen at Jefferson's table; also De Lameth; also Duport; also Mounier. We know that Jefferson was familiar with such men as Montmorin and Necker, such women as Madame Houditot, De Tesse, and Necker's brilliant daughter; but did he know the angular, sharp-faced member from Arcis-Robespierre? Did he ever chance to discuss science with Dr. Jean Paul Marat? Did he ever hear thundering at the PalaisRoyal the burly Danton?

We know what he thought of the oratory of Mirabeau-life is bountiful when it permits the same man to hear both Patrick Henry and Mira-/ beau. We know that he was acquainted with the Girondin Condorcet, and that he gave to Brissot, another Girondin, a letter of introduction to Madison; but did he ever meet the lofty-minded patriot Louvet, a third Girondin, whose book of Chevalier Faublas (so detested by Thomas Carlyle) deals

largely with the adventures of the Count Pulaski, who gave his life for us at Savannah?

Among the young nobles whom he met in his social rounds, did he happen to know the gallant Viscount Beauharnais, and the gay wife of the same-sweet-faced, soft-voiced, artfully artless Josephine?

The Abbé Raynal was a savant of some reputation. Did he ever see the American minister, and if so, did he introduce his protégé, Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte?

Questions like these naturally occur to the mind, but they can not be answered. Owing to the bungling work of a crude letter-press, all of Mr. Jefferson's letters, at the most interesting period of his stay in France, are unreadable.

CHAPTER XXIX

RETURN TO MONTICELLO

MR. JEFFERSON, upon his arrival in Paris, had placed his daughter Martha in a convent school. The other two he left in Virginia with their aunt, Mrs. Eppes. The youngest, Lucy, died soon after her father reached France, being about two years old at the time. In 1787 Mary Jefferson joined her father and her sister in Paris, and was also placed in the convent school. Martha is described as being tall and elegant, with a calm, sweet face, stamped with thought and earnestness. She was modest; she was both gentle and genial; and she possessed fine natural talents, which she was faithful in her efforts to improve. Her temper was sunny; extremes were unknown to her; the elevation of her father never elated her unduly; and the misfortunes which came upon him, and upon her, could not break her spirit. "The noblest woman in Virginia!" So said John Randolph, of Roanoke, who did not love her for her father's sake.

Mary Jefferson is said to have been beautiful in form and face, like her mother. "A finer child of