  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. 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. |
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