principles of naval warfare. About this time he wrote a letter to
Admiral Kersaint, of the French navy, in which he criticised fearlessly
and trenchantly the naval tactics of the French. Their policy, he
explained, was to "neutralize the power of their adversaries, if
possible, by grand manoeuvres rather than to destroy it by grand
attack;" and objecting to this policy, the dashing Jones, who always
desired to "get alongside the enemy," wrote: "Their (the French)
combinations have been superb; but as I look at them, they have not been
harmful enough; they have not been calculated to do as much capturing or
sinking of ships, and as much crippling or killing of seamen, as true
and lasting success in naval warfare seems to me to demand.... Should
France thus honor me [with a command] it must be with the unqualified
understanding that I am not to be restricted by the traditions of her
naval tactics; but with full consent that I may, on suitable occasion,
to be decreed by my judgment on the spot, try conclusions with her foes
to the bitter end or to death, at shorter range and at closer quarters
than have hitherto been sanctioned by her tactical authorities."
Paul Jones, although in these last years he was forced, more than was
agreeable to him, to play the role of an intelligent commentator,
remained a man of action to the end. He sought, this time in vain, to
extract from the French government wages still due the crew of the old
Bonhomme Richard. His failure brought out an unusually bitter letter, in
which he again recounted his services and the wrongs done him by the
various ministers of marine. As he grew older and more disappointed the
deeds he had done seemed mountain high to him. "My fortitude and
self-denial alone dragged Holland into the war, a service of the
greatest importance to this nation; for without that great event, no
calculation can ascertain when the war would have ended.... Would you
suppose that I was driven out of the Texel in a single frigate belonging
to the United States, in the face of forty-two English ships and vessels
posted to cut off my retreat?"
With equal energy the failing commodore never ceased to hope and strive
for an important command. To head an expedition against the Barbary
pirates had long been with him a favorite scheme, and now he looked
forward eagerly to a position in the French navy.
By the irony of fate a letter came from Mr. Jefferson announcing Jones's
appointment as commissioner for treating with the Dey and government of
Algiers. But it was too late, for before the letter arrived in Paris
Paul Jones was dead. On July 11, 1792, a week before he died, he had
attended a session of the French Assembly and had made a felicitous
speech. He expressed his love for America, for France, and for the cause
of liberty, and regretted his failing health as interfering with his
activity in their service. He closed with the pathetic words:--
"But ill as I am, there is yet something left of the man--not the
admiral, not the chevalier--but the plain, simple man whom it delights
me to hear you call 'Paul Jones,' without any rank but that of
fellowship, and without any title but that of comrade. So now I say to
you that whatever is left of that man, be it never so faint or feeble,
will be laid, if necessary, upon the altar of French Liberty as
cheerfully as a child lies down to pleasant dreams! My friends, I would
love to pursue this theme, but, as you see, my voice is failing and my
lower limbs become swollen when I stand up too long. At any rate I have
said enough. I am now ready to act whenever and wheresoever bidden by
the voice of France."
Jones's cough and the swelling in his legs continued; a few days later
jaundice and dropsy set in, and it was clear to his friends that the end
was near. Aimee de Thelison, Gouverneur Morris, and some of the
distinguished revolutionists were about him during the last few days of
his life. On the afternoon of July 18, 1792, his will was witnessed, and
about seven o'clock in the evening he was found in his room, lying with
his clothes on, face down across the middle of the bed, dead.
The next day the National Assembly passed a resolution decreeing "that
twelve of its members shall assist at the funeral of a man who has so
well served the cause of liberty."
True or not, the words attributed to Napoleon after Trafalgar, in 1805,
are no more than justice to Paul Jones.
"How old," Napoleon asked, "was Paul Jones when he died?"
On being told that Jones was forty-five years old at the time of his
death, Napoleon said:--
"Then he did not fulfill his destiny. Had he lived to this time, France
might have had an admiral."
Paul Jones has been called by his friends patriot, and by his enemies
pirate. In reality he was neither. He was not one of those deeply
ethical natures that subordinate personal glory and success to the
common good. As an American he cannot be ranked with his great
contemporaries, for his patriotism consisted merely in being fair and
devoted to the side he had for the time espoused rather than in quiet
work as a citizen after the spectacular opportunity had passed. He was
ready to serve wherever he saw the best chance for himself, whether it
was with the United States, Russia, or France. In no unworthy sense of
the word, however, was he an adventurer. The deepest thing in his soul,
the love of glory, rendered him incapable at once of meanness and of
true patriotism. In search for fame he gave up family, friends, and
religion. In these relations of life he would have been and was, as far
as he went, tolerant and kind; but in them he was not interested. Love
of glory made him a lonely figure. It rendered him a _poseur_, vain and
snobbish, but it also spurred him on to contend, with phenomenal energy,
against almost innumerable difficulties.
As far as his deeds are concerned, Paul Jones appears in the popular
consciousness as he really was,--a bolt of effectiveness, a desperate,
successful fighter, a sea captain whose habit was to appear unexpectedly
to confound his enemies, and then to disappear, no one knew where, only
to reappear with telling effect. He has been the hero of the novelists,
who, expressing the popular idea, have pictured him with essential
truth. A popular hero, indeed, he was, and will remain so, justly, in
the memory of men.
* * * * *
The Riverside Press
_Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._
_Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._