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 Mirabeau. 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

her age I never saw," wrote Mrs. John Adams, who kept the girl a while in London till Mr. Jefferson could send for her. "She was the favorite of every one in the house." She was one of those impulsive, warm, and clinging children whose throne is a father's knee, and who must run to him with every beautiful flower it has found, every beautiful picture it sees in the books; one who must rush to his arms for consolation, when its little griefs come, and weep its way to comfort on his breast.

Mr. Jefferson had been enjoying the freedom and advantages of his position so much that he came near making a grave mistake with his oldest daughter. He forgot how long she had been at the convent, until one morning in 1789 he received a note from her in which she asked his permission to become a nun.

Allowing the note to go unanswered for a day or two, he drove to the convent, had the necessary explanations with the abbess, then, telling his daughters that he had come to take them away from school, he drove off with them to his home.

Engaging special masters, the education of the young ladies was continued, special attention being given to their music and dancing. Each of them spoke French almost as fluently as they did their mother tongue.

When Mr. Randall stated that, after coming from the convent, Martha Jefferson was introduced

into society, he probably meant no more than he said, viz., that she began to meet her father's friends socially, receiving and paying visits in Mr. Jefferson's quiet way. Mr. Randall could not have meant that Martha had not been in society previous to that time, for the letters he prints show that so early as 1787 she accompanied her father on his social rounds.

Resolved into its real elements, the episode becomes simple enough. The American minister puts his daughter in charge of the abbess of a convent, to be educated. Sanctimoniously environed, the impressionable girl becomes sanctimonious, inclining to nunnery. The mother superior herself, no doubt, required that the minor child consult her father before committing herself. At any rate, the suggestion comes to Mr. Jefferson in a frank, open way. He acts the gentlemen with the abbess, for he goes to her before seeing his daughter. He acts the kind-hearted parent with the child, for he utters no word of reproof. He asserts his rights as parent, for he takes his girls home. And he acts the man of the world, for he gives them other teachers, and throws them with people who are not so sanctimonious.

That is all there is of it-until Mr. William Eleroy Curtis gets hold of the incident, and then occurrences befall!

He makes Martha's letter to her father a

"tear