Paul Jones’s first visit in Paris was to his best and firmest friend,
Benjamin Franklin. In all of his anxieties, as well as his triumphs,
Franklin had stood unflinchingly by him; and now, no man rejoiced more
at his splendid fame than Franklin. As soon as it was known that the
immortal Paul Jones was in Paris crowds flocked to see him, and his
modest lodgings were overrun with people of the greatest distinction.
The American cause was very popular, and the presence of two such men as
Benjamin Franklin and Paul Jones was calculated to add luster to the
cause they served.
Whether Paul Jones walked in the gardens of Paris or upon the
boulevards, he was followed by a respectful and admiring crowd. The
first night he went to the theater, as soon as he entered the word went
round, “There is Paul Jones!” As he advanced and took his seat the
whisper increased to a buzz, and then into an uproar, the audience
rising and applauding excitedly. Paul Jones, with a blush upon his manly
features, rose and returned the salutations of the crowd.
In a few days came an invitation, which was in reality a command, to
visit Versailles and to meet the king, Louis XVI, and his queen, Marie
Antoinette. Both of them were afterward to lay down their lives on the
scaffold, but then they were in the heyday of power and magnificence.
Louis earnestly desired the independence of America, and entertained the
highest respect for the characters of her great men.
On a beautiful Sunday in May, Paul Jones, with Franklin, set off for
Versailles in a plain coach. Danny Dixon, in a brand new sailor suit,
sat on the box with the coachman and did duty for a footman. Inside sat
Dr. Franklin, in the simple dress of an American citizen. His coat was
plain but handsome, and he remarked to Paul Jones, smiling: “This is the
coat, my friend, in which I was insulted by Lord Loughborough. I wear it
whenever I appear as the representative of my country; and it is my
ambition to wear it upon the day that an honorable peace is signed
between America and Great Britain”—which actually came to pass.
Paul Jones wore a splendid new uniform of an American commodore, and
looked every inch a great man.
All along the road to Versailles, which was crowded with magnificent
equipages, with horsemen superbly mounted, and with a great and merry
populace, the carriage containing the two Americans was pointed out with
the utmost interest. They drove slowly down the grand avenue, and at
last the palace of Versailles burst upon their sight in glittering
beauty. The terraces were of velvety greenness, the fountains sparkled
brilliantly in the noonday sun, and the trees were in their first fresh
glory of the May.
A crowd of great people—courtiers and court ladies superbly costumed,
ministers and statesmen, naval and military officers in dazzling
uniforms—crowded the grand staircase; but all made way for the venerable
Dr. Franklin and Paul Jones, for the word had sped from mouth to mouth
who they were. Respectful greetings met them on every side, and when
they entered the anteroom they were the cynosure of all eyes.
[Illustration: _Paul Jones and Franklin at the Court of Louis XVI._]
Presently the great folding doors of the audience chamber were thrown
wide, and an instant hush fell upon the vast crowd of nobles and
gentlemen. The king and queen, seated in armchairs on a dais, over which
there was a canopy, and surrounded by members of the royal family and
their suite, were seen at the end of the vast and splendid hall. By a
silent motion the gentleman usher, one of the greatest nobles in France,
singled out Dr. Franklin and Paul Jones. Both of them rose at once and
entered the audience chamber, after which the doors slid noiselessly
into their grooves until the two reappeared at the end of half an hour.
Within the hall Franklin and Paul Jones approached the king and queen
with dignified composure. They were respectful but not awed, and were
much more at their ease than half the great people who surrounded
royalty.
On reaching the dais upon which sat Louis XVI, whose mild and frank
countenance expressed the honest man and the gentleman much more than
the king, Dr. Franklin bowed profoundly, and said:
“Sire, I desire to present to your Majesty Commodore Paul Jones, of the
American navy.”
“And I am heartily glad to see so great a hero,” responded Louis. Then
the same ceremony was gone through with the queen, whose grace and
beauty were then at their zenith.
Both of them entered into conversation with the two Americans. Never
were two men more congenial in general tastes and opinions than the
excellent Louis and the great Franklin. Louis admired Franklin’s genius,
and Franklin respected the king, who, although his youth was spent in
the most corrupt court in the world, yet grew up honest, temperate, and
moral. The beauty and enthusiasm of the young queen deeply impressed
Paul Jones. Little did he then think that lovely head would one day fall
under the axe of the guillotine!
The king’s chief attention, though, was bestowed upon Paul Jones, whom
he had long desired to meet.
“I wish to thank you,” he said, “for the very noble and interesting
account of your glorious cruise, that you wrote out at my request. But,
after all has been said, I am yet constrained to ask you, how could you
have accomplished the capture of the Serapis in the face of such
enormous odds?”
“By hard fighting, sire,” responded Paul Jones, with a smile; and the
king and the lovely queen both smiled at the manly simplicity of the
answer. The king then said:
“I understand that the British have tried Captain Pearson by
court-martial, and, considering the fact that he defended himself for
five hours against Commodore Paul Jones, they have not only acquitted
him, but have made him a baronet besides. He is now Sir Richard
Pearson.”
“Sire,” answered Paul Jones, “if I have the good fortune to meet him
again, I will make him a lord!”
At this the king laughed heartily, and repeated it to the queen; and
from that Paul Jones’s _bon mot_ went the rounds of Europe.
As they were about to leave, the king said to Paul Jones: “It is my
intention to show in some marked manner my approval of your brilliant
conduct and my appreciation of so brave an ally, and I design that you
shall receive it in your own country and among the plaudits of your
fellow-citizens. But all Europe will know it as well.”
Paul Jones bowed his thanks, while Dr. Franklin, in a few words,
expressed the gratitude the American Government and people would feel at
honors bestowed to their foremost naval hero. Then, with profound and
respectful bows, they left the presence of royalty.
Paul Jones’s popularity was still further increased by these marks of
kingly favor, and he became the fashion with the nobility and the court
people. No assembly was complete without him, and “_le brave
capitaine_,” as he was called, was surrounded by brilliant men and
beautiful women whenever he appeared in society. But what chiefly
pleased Paul Jones was the popular regard the masses had for him, and
the attentions paid him by the French naval and military men. These,
indeed, penetrated his soul. In a very little while the honors alluded
to by the king were announced to Paul Jones through the Minister of
Marine, M. de Sartine. A magnificent gold-hilted sword, inscribed
“_Vindicati Maris Ludovicus XVI Remunerator strenuo vindici_,” was
presented him, and the extraordinary honor of the cross of the Order of
Military Merit, which had never before been given to any but a
Frenchman. This last, however, he could not accept, as an American
officer, without the permission of Congress, and therefore the cross was
sent, with a most flattering letter to the French minister at
Philadelphia, with directions that Congress be asked to allow Paul Jones
to accept it—which permission was afterward enthusiastically granted.
The conferring of this last honor made Paul Jones a chevalier of the
Order of Military Merit, and he was already the Commodore of the
American Navy. But none of these titles were used by him. His cards bore
the simple but proud name of “_Paul Jones_.” He needed not titles or
distinctions; and, although he appreciated them, he knew that they could
not confer any title upon him that would add one iota to his reputation.