ed 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