Cornwallis, as a volunteer, but he cheerfully gave up this exciting
prospect in order to prepare the America for sea,--"the most lingering
and disagreeable task," he wrote, "he had been charged with during the
whole of the war." He did his job with his usual efficiency, however,
and with his usual extravagance, which he called simplicity. He wrote in
his journal: "The plan which Captain Jones projected for the sculpture
expressed dignity and simplicity. The head was a female figure crowned
with laurels. The right arm was raised, with the forefinger pointing to
heaven.... On the left arm was a buckler, with a blue ground and
thirteen silver stars. The legs and feet were covered here and there
with wreaths of smoke, to represent the dangers and difficulties of war.
On the stern, under the windows of the great cabin, appeared two large
figures in bas-relief, representing Tyranny and Oppression, bound and
biting the ground, with the cap of Liberty on a pole above their heads.
On the back part of the starboard quarter was a large Neptune; and on
the back part of the larboard quarter gallery, a large Mars."
As a reward for all this industry and aesthetic effort Jones had another
disappointment; for in August, 1782, the French seventy-four gunship,
the Magnifique, was wrecked at the entrance to Boston harbor, and
Congress gave the America to the king of France.
With undaunted energy Jones now attempted to get hold of the South
Carolina, originally called the Indien, which he had formerly, when he
crossed the ocean in the Ranger, failed to secure. She was now, under
the new name, in the service of the States, and Robert Morris tried to
turn her over to Jones, that he might again "harass the enemy." But the
plan failed, and Jones remained without a command. Unable to rest,
although his health had for some time been failing, he now requested and
obtained consent "to embark as a volunteer in pursuit of military
marine knowledge with the Marquis de Vaudreuil, in order to enable him
the better to serve his country when America should increase her navy."
He went off, accordingly, on the cruise with the French fleet; but the
expedition, during the course of which peace was declared, was
uneventful, and Jones, who had had an attack of fever, spent the summer
of 1783 quietly in the town of Bethlehem. In the following November,
however, he renewed his activity, and on his application was appointed
by Congress agent to collect all moneys due from the sale of the prizes
taken in European waters by vessels under his command.
Although money was subordinate, in Jones's mind, to glory and the
opportunity for action, he was an excellent business man. His commercial
transactions had been successful enough to enable him to pay with his
own resources the crews of the Alfred and Providence, so that when he
set sail in the Ranger he had advanced L1500 to the United States. After
the close of the war, at a period of comparative inactivity, he began a
profitable trade in illuminating oils, and in his character as prize
money agent he continued to show his business dexterity. He began a long
campaign of a year of most pertinacious and vigorous dunning for money
due the United States, himself, and the officers and sailors under his
command. He wrote innumerable letters to Franklin, to de Castries, the
new Minister of Marine, to de Vergennes, Minister of Foreign Affairs; to
many others, and prepared for the king a careful account of his cruises,
in order to show that prize money was due. In arguing for all that he
could get he showed great acuteness, legal sense, and, beyond
everything, invincible determination. He also again demonstrated his
happy talent for abuse of those who stood in his way. He finally secured
the allowance of his claims; and the settlements, which began in
January, 1784, were completed, as far as France was concerned, in July,
1785. He was paid 181,000 livres, which he turned over, less deductions
for expenses and his own share of the prize money, to Thomas Jefferson,
then minister to France, who approved the account. Jones charged for
his ordinary expenses, however, the sum of 48,000 livres and his share
of prize money was 13,000 livres, a total of 61,000 livres, a generous
allowance. One of the free-handed man's biographers, A. S. MacKenzie,
pointed out that Jones "charged his shipmates for his expenses, during
less than two years, more than General Washington did the people of the
United States throughout the Revolutionary War."
The next public business of Jones was to attempt to collect indemnity
from the Danish government for the delivery to England of the prizes
sent by the mad Landais, during Jones's most famous cruise, to Bergen,
Denmark. He delayed his trip to Copenhagen, however, for a number of
reasons. At this time he was carrying on several private business
enterprises of importance, was occupied with society in London and
Paris, and was eagerly desirous of being sent by the French government
against the Dey of Algiers, who held in bondage many Christians. At
various times during his career Jones showed a keen sense of the wrongs
inflicted on Americans by the Barbary pirates in search of tribute, and
in his letters to Jefferson and others he often suggested plans for
their extermination. For de Vergennes and de Castries he prepared a
memorandum urging the necessity of a movement against the pirates, and
ably pointing out the good that would accrue therefrom to the world, and
particularly to France, to which nation he attributed future dominion in
North Africa, provided action was taken in time to forestall Great
Britain.
"The knowledge of the race persuades me," he wrote, "that England will
soon invade the Mediterranean--doubtless as soon as she recovers from
the exhaustion of the late war."
The United States, however, were after the war lacking so completely in
resources that a war with the pirates was impossible, and France was on
the brink of her great Revolution, and had more important things to
consider. So Jones died before the expedition for which he had so
ardently hoped, and which brought so much honor, as he had predicted,
to the man who commanded it--Commodore Dale, once Jones's first
lieutenant on the Bonhomme Richard--was dispatched.
Jones finally set off for Copenhagen to collect the indemnity from the
Danish government; but hearing of a crisis in an important business
matter in which he was interested, he made, before arriving at his
destination, a flying trip to America. While there, he was awarded a
gold medal by Congress, and said in his journal that such a medal had
been given to only six officers.
"To General Washington, for the capture of Boston; General Gates, for
the capture of Burgoyne's army; General Wayne, for the taking of Rocky
Point;... General Morgan, for having defeated and destroyed a
detachment of 1100 officers and soldiers of the best troops of England,
with 900 militia merely; General Greene, for having scored a decisive
victory on the enemy at Euta Spring.... But all these medals, although
well merited, were given in moments of enthusiasm. I had the unique
satisfaction of receiving the same honor, by the unanimous voice of the
United States assembled in Congress, the sixteenth October, 1787, in
memory of the services which I rendered eight years earlier."
It was not until January, 1788, that Paul Jones arrived at Copenhagen,
where, during his short stay, he was magnificently entertained by the
court. The negotiations for the indemnity, which he began almost
immediately, were abruptly terminated by the transfer of the matter for
settlement to Paris. Jones, on the day he agreed to suspend the
negotiations, received from the Danish government a patent for a pension
of 1500 crowns a year, "for the respect he had shown the Danish flag
while he commanded in the European seas." Jones kept this transaction,
for which he possibly felt ashamed, to himself, until several years
afterwards, when, writing to Jefferson, he said: "I have felt myself in
an embarrassing situation, with regard to the king's patent, and I have
not yet made use of it, though three years have elapsed since I received
it."
On Jones's return to Paris from America, previous to his Copenhagen
trip, the Russian ambassador to France, Baron Simolin, had made, through
Mr. Jefferson, a proposition looking to the appointment of the conqueror
of the Serapis to a position in the navy of Russia, then about to war
with the Turks. Simolin wrote Catherine II. of Russia that, "with the
chief command of the fleet and _carte blanche_ he would undertake that
in a year Paul Jones would make Constantinople tremble." This exciting
possibility was no doubt constantly in Jones's mind while he was at
Copenhagen, and probably increased his willingness to dismiss the
indemnity negotiations. He began immediately to manoeuvre for the
highest command possible. He demurred to the rank of captain-commandant,
equal to that of major-general in the army, and maintained that nothing
less than rear-admiral was fitting. He laid the account of all his deeds
and honors before the dazzled Russian minister at Copenhagen, and said:
"The unbounded admiration and profound respect which I have long felt
for the glorious character of her Imperial Majesty, forbids the idea
that a sovereign so magnanimous should sanction any arrangement that may
give pain at the outset to the man she deigns to honor with her notice,
and who wishes to devote himself entirely to her service." In order to
be in a better position for extorting honors from the empress, Jones
wrote Jefferson suggesting that Congress bestow upon him the rank of
rear-admiral; and took occasion to assert, on the eve of taking service
under a despot, the undying character of his love for America.
"I am not forsaking," he wrote, "the country that has had so many
distinguished and difficult proofs of my affection; and can never
renounce the glorious title of _a citizen of the United States_"
[Italics are Jones's].
Jones left Copenhagen on his ill-fated Russian mission, April 11, and
made a flying and perilous trip to St. Petersburg. He crossed the
ice-blocked Baltic in a small boat, compelled, at the muzzle of his
pistols, the unwilling boatmen to proceed, and on his arrival at his
destination, on April 23, was presented to the empress, who conferred
upon him the coveted rank of rear-admiral, to the intense irritation of
many of the English officers in the service of Russia, who looked upon
Jones as a red-handed pirate. In June Catherine wrote to her favorite at
the time: "I am sorry that all the officers are raging about Paul Jones.
I hope fervently that they will cease their mad complaints, for he is
necessary to us." In 1792, long after the war in which Jones had played
a part, Catherine said, with a different accent: "Ce Paul Jones etait
une bien mauvaise tete." Certainly Jones's diplomacy, which was of a
direct character, was not equal to his present situation, unfamiliar to
him, and for success demanding conduct tortuous and insincere to an
Oriental degree. Jones, in comparison with his associates in Russia, was
remarkably truthful,--a trait which involved him in humiliating
difficulties, and which was a source of irritation to the empress and to
all concerned.
IX
IN THE RUSSIAN SERVICE
Paul Jones left St. Petersburg on May 7, to take command of the Russian
squadron in the Black Sea. Before his departure he requested of the
empress "never to be condemned unheard." This, one of the most modest
demands Jones ever made, was, as the sequel will show, denied him. He
arrived on the 19th at St. Elizabeth, the headquarters of Prince
Potemkin, the former favorite of the empress and the commander in chief
of the war against the Turks. Potemkin, under whose orders Jones stood,
was of a thoroughly despotic type. As Potemkin was a prince, Jones was
at first disposed to flatter him extravagantly, but the commodore was by
nature averse to being dictated to, particularly by those whom he deemed
his inferiors, and it was not long before they began to quarrel.
Paul Jones was put in command of the squadron which was to oppose the
fleet of the Capitan Pacha, and thus help the Russian army to take
Oczakow, a town lying at the junction of the Bog with the Knieper, which
had been strongly fortified by the Turks. Unfortunately, Jones was not
only subject to the orders of Prince Potemkin, but the immediate command
of the fleet was divided between him and a thoroughly incompetent and
arrogant adventurer, the Prince of Nassau. Jones commanded the heavier
ships, forming the squadron, while Nassau was in charge of a
considerable force of Russian gunboats and barges, composing what was
called the flotilla. Between Jones and Nassau existed extreme jealousy.
In fact, the only officer in high position with whom Jones stood on an
amicable footing was the distinguished General Suwarrow. Early in the
campaign the Russian had advised Jones to allow Potemkin to take the
credit of any success that might result, and to hold his tongue,--two
things which Jones, unfortunately, was quite incapable of doing.
It is impossible to enter into the details of this campaign, but enough
may be given to explain the difficulties which Jones encountered. After
some unimportant engagements between the two fleets, an action of
importance occurred which disclosed the deep differences between Jones
and his Russian allies. The Capitan Pacha attempted to attack the
Russian fleet, but one of his ships ran aground, and the others
anchored. Jones saw his opportunity and ordered a general attack on the
confused Turkish fleet, which cut anchor and fled, with Jones in
pursuit. The Wolodimer, Jones's flagship, steered straight for the
Capitan Pacha's ship, which ran aground; whereupon one of Jones's
officers, without orders, dropped the Wolodimer's anchor. In the mean
time the flotilla, under Nassau, lagged behind, and Jones, in order to
offset the operations of the Turkish flotilla, which had already
destroyed one of the Russian frigates, left his anchored flagship to go
in search of Nassau, whom he found with his flotilla occupied in firing
on two Turkish ships which were aground and were, moreover, under the
guns of the Russian ships, and might justly be regarded as prizes.
Nassau persisted in this useless undertaking until the enemy's vessels
had been burned and the crews had perished in the flames. When Jones
found he was unable to withdraw the prince from this bloody and
unprofitable proceeding, he ordered an attack, with a part of Nassau's
ships, upon the Turkish flotilla, which was soon driven off.
During the night the Capitan Pacha attempted to pass out from the Liman,
with the remains of his squadron; but nine of his ships grounded, and,
being thus brought within range of the Russian fort on the extreme point
of Kinburn, were fired upon and were practically at the mercy of the
Russians. Nevertheless, the Prince of Nassau advanced in the morning
with his flotilla, and, to Jones's extreme rage, burned the grounded
Turkish ships, three thousand Turks who were practically prisoners
perishing in the flames.
On July 1 Nassau, with his flotilla, advanced against the flotilla of
the Turks, but did not seem anxious to go within grapeshot; and Jones,
with his heavier ships, went to capture five Turkish galleys lying under
the cover of the guns of the Turkish battery and flotilla. Two of these
galleys were captured and the others destroyed. Nassau and Alexiano
directed their belligerent efforts against the captured galleys, one of
which was--with all the slaves on board,--ruthlessly burned. Other
Turkish ships were likewise needlessly destroyed, a mode of warfare
quite at variance with the traditions of Jones. He expressed his
consequent disgust in terms more genuine than diplomatic.
As a reward of his idiotic actions, on the basis of an inflated and
dishonest report of the battle which was sent to the empress, Nassau
received a valuable estate, the military order of St. George, and
authority to hoist the flag of rear-admiral; other officers were also
substantially rewarded; while all that was given to Jones, whose honest
but unflattering report had been rejected by Potemkin, was the order of
St. Anne. It is easy to imagine Jones's bitterness. He says in his
journal: "If he (Nassau) has received the rank of vice-admiral, I will
say in the face of the universe that he is unworthy of it."
Referring to the cowardice of his associates who, in order to escape, he
says, provided their boats with small _chaloupes_, Jones writes:--
"For myself I took no precautions. I saw that I must conquer or die."
Jones's bitterness, partly justified by the facts, seems at this time to
have reached almost the point of madness, and the quarrel between him
and his associates increased in virulence. In the course of the
unimportant operations following the defeat of the Turks, during which
the squadron maintained a strict blockade of Oczakow, Jones was sent on
a number of trivial enterprises by Potemkin, whose language was
carefully chosen to irritate the fiery Scotchman. On one occasion he
commanded Jones "to receive him (the Capitan Pacha) courageously, and
drive him back. I require that this be done without loss of time; if
not, you will be made answerable for every neglect." In reply, Jones
complained of the injustice done his officers. Shortly afterwards Jones
doubted the wisdom of one of Potemkin's orders, and wrote: "Every man is
master of his opinion, and this is mine." When Potemkin again wrote
Jones "to defend himself courageously," the latter's annotation was: "It
will be hard to believe that Prince Potemkin addressed such words to
Paul Jones." To the prince he wrote in terms alternately flattering and
complaining:--
"Your Highness has so good a heart that you will excuse the hastiness of
expression which escaped me. I am anxious to continue in the service."
But the despotic Potemkin had made up his mind that he could not get
along with Paul Jones, and with an indirectness characteristic of him,
secured an order for the latter for service "in the northern seas." This
was practically a dismissal for Jones, who returned in virtual disgrace
to St. Petersburg, where he hoped to be put in command of the Baltic
fleet. Catherine, however, was now sincerely anxious to get rid of
Jones, but on account of his powerful friends in France did not dare to
do so openly. She had "condemned him unheard," and repeated her
injustice in a still more pointed way; for in March, 1789, while Jones
was waiting for the command which never came, he was falsely accused of
an atrocious crime and forbidden to approach the palace of the empress,
being again "condemned unheard." Had it not been for the French
ambassador, de Segur, who had a strong influence on Catherine, the crime
might always have been attributed to Paul Jones. De Segur, however,
proved to Catherine that Jones was the victim of a plot, and she was
forced to recall the unfortunate man to court. Soon afterwards Jones,
who had for a long time been greatly suffering in health, was given two
years' leave of absence.
Paul Jones's experience in Russia was the most unfortunate part of an
unfortunate career. His services to that country, which were
considerable, were never recognized. His report of the Liman campaign
had been rejected, and he had been unjustly deposed from the actual
command and an empty promise substituted. His letters had been
systematically intercepted, and he was a victim, not only of a
detestable plot involving his moral character, but of many other charges
equally virulent and untrue.
It was grotesquely reported, for instance, that he had murdered his
nephew, who in reality did not exist. The leave of absence, moreover,
must have been to a man of his spirit a severe blow.
At the close of the journal of the Liman campaign Jones's bitterness is
pathetically expressed in inflated self-praise, called out by the desire
to confute the calumnies of his enemies. "Every one to whom I have the
honor to be known," he wrote, "is aware that I am the least selfish of
mankind.... This is known to the whole American people.... Have I not
given proofs sufficiently striking that I have a heart the most
sensitive, a soul the most elevated?... I am the only man in the world
that possesses a sword given by the king of France ... but what
completes my happiness is the esteem and friendship of the most virtuous
of men, whose fame will be immortal; and that a Washington, a Franklin,
a D'Estaing, a La Fayette, think the bust of Paul Jones worthy of being
placed side by side with their own.... Briefly, I am satisfied with
myself."
X
LAST DAYS
On August 18, 1789, Paul Jones left St. Petersburg, never to return, and
never again to fight a battle. He was only forty-two years old, but
although his ambition was as intense as ever, his health had through
unremitting exertions and exposure become undermined. For many years the
active man had not known what it was to sleep four hours at a time, and
now his left lung was badly affected, and he had only a few years more
to live. After an extended tour, devoted mainly to business and
society,--during the course of which he met Kosciusko at Warsaw,
visited, among other cities, Vienna, Munich, Strassburg, and
London,--Jones reached Paris, where Aimee de Thelison and his true home
were, on May 30, 1790. He resigned from his position in the Russian
navy, and remained most of the time until his death in the French
capital.
The great French Revolution had taken place; and Paul Jones occupied the
position, unusual for him, of a passive spectator of great events.
Acquainted with men of all parties, with Bertrand Barere, Carnot,
Robespierre, and Danton, as well as with the more conservative men with
whom his own past had led him to sympathize,--Lafayette, Mirabeau, and
Malesherbes,--Jones's last days were not lacking in picturesque
opportunity for observation. He felt great sympathy for the king, with
whom he had been acquainted, and who had bestowed upon him the title of
chevalier and the gold sword. For Mirabeau, as for other really great
men Jones knew,--Franklin, Washington, and Suwarrow,--he had extreme
admiration, and on the occasion of the famous Frenchman's death wrote:
"I have never seen or read of a man capable of such mastery over the
passions and the follies of such a mob. There is no one to take the
place of Mirabeau." Of the mob Jones wrote with aristocratic hatred:
"There have been many moments when my heart turned to stone towards
those who call themselves 'the people' in France. More than once have I
harbored the wish that I might be intrusted by Lafayette with the
command of the Palace, with _carte blanche_ to defend the constitution;
and that I might have once more with me, if only for one day, my old
crews of the Ranger, the Richard, and the Alliance! I surely would have
made the thirty cannon of the courtyard teach to that mad rabble the
lesson that grapeshot has its uses in struggles for the rights of man!"