Without either the duel or the publication of the paper, Jones was, however, completely vindicated. He answered the questions with clearness and skill, to the complete satisfaction of the board, which recommended that Congress confer on the hero some distinguished mark of approbation. A committee was appointed to question Jones personally, and the impression he made upon it is another proof of the remarkable suavity, plausibility and magnetism of the man. One of the examining committeemen wrote:—

"From his beginning no one thought of disputing him. Toward the end we seldom ventured to ask him any questions. He made himself master of the situation throughout. At the end the committee felt honored by having had the privilege of listening to him."

On the committee's recommendation Congress, which had already on Jones's arrival resolved "that Congress entertain a high sense of the distinguished bravery and military conduct of John Paul Jones, Esq., captain in the navy of the United States, and particularly in his victory over the British frigate Serapis," gave Jones a further vote of thanks, "for the zeal, prudence, and intrepidity with which he has supported the honor of the American flag; for his bold and successful enterprises to redeem from captivity the citizens of these States who had fallen under the power of the enemy, and in general for the good conduct and eminent services by which he has added lustre to his character and to the American arms."

Soon after, the intrepid man to whom were given so many testimonials and so few satisfactory commands received an appreciative letter from General Washington, who, after stating his satisfaction with Jones's explanation of the delay of the supplies, said:—

"Whether our naval affairs have in general been well or ill conducted would be presumptuous in me to determine. Instances of bravery and good conduct in several of our officers have not, however, been wanting. Delicacy forbids me to mention that particular instance which has attracted the admiration of all the world and which has influenced the most illustrious monarch to confer a mark of his favor which can only be obtained by a long and honorable service or by the performance of some brilliant action."

It now seemed to Jones a favorable opportunity to improve his rank, and on May 28 he sent a memorial to Congress reiterating his claims to stand above the captains who had been unjustly put ahead of him. He failed, probably on account of the political influence wielded by the captains; but in the way of compensation he was appointed commander of the new vessel then building at Portsmouth, a seventy-four, called the America, the only ship of the line owned by the States,—a "singular honor," as he expressed it. John Adams, who had at one time been unfriendly to Jones, looking upon him as "a smooth, plausible, and rather capable adventurer," wrote him, a propos of this appointment:—

"The command of the America could not have been more judiciously bestowed, and it is with impatience that I wish her at sea, where she will do honor to her name."

Jones had hoped to join Washington's army, then campaigning against 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!"

Jones always had much to say on the organization of navies and the 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.

THE END