JOHN PAUL JONES
Along the banks of the River Dee, in Scotland, the Earls of Selkirk
owned two castles. John Paul was landscape gardener at Saint Mary's
Isle, and his brother George made the grounds beautiful at the Arbigland
estate. Little John Paul stayed often with his uncle. At either place he
could see the blue water, and he loved everything about it. At Arbigland
he watched the ships sail by and could see the English mountains in the
distance. From the sailors he heard all kinds of sea stories and tales
of wild border warfare. When a tiny child, he used to wander down to the
mouth of the river Nith and coax the crews of the sailing vessels to
tell him stories. They liked him and taught him to manage small
sailboats. He quickly learned sea phrases and used to climb on some high
rock and give off orders to his small play-fellows, or perhaps launch
his boat alone upon the waters and just make believe that he had a crew
of men on board with whom he was very stern.
For a few years this son of the Scotch gardener went to parish school,
but his mind was filled with the wild stories of adventure, and he
longed to see the world. John had a feeling that his life was going to
be exciting, and he could not keep his mind on his books some days. He
was not sorry when his mother told him that as times were hard, he must
leave school and go to work.
John's older brother, William, had gone to America, and his uncle George
had ceased working for the Earls of Selkirk because he had saved enough
money to go to America. He was a merchant, with a store of his own in
South Carolina.
John heard such glowing accounts of men getting rich and famous in that
land across the sea that he felt it must be almost like fairy-land.
Think how pleased he must have been when at the age of twelve he shipped
aboard the ship Friendship, bound for Virginia! And best of all, this
ship anchored a few miles from Fredericksburg, where his brother lived.
When in port, John stayed with William. He loved America from the first
moment he saw a bit of her coast, and he never left off loving our
country as long as he lived.
John went back and forth from America to Scotland on the Friendship a
great many times. He had made up his mind that he would always go to
sea, and he meant to understand everything about ships, countries to
which they might sail, and all laws about trading in different ports. So
he studied all the books he could get hold of that would teach him these
things.
Sometimes he changed vessels, shipping with a different captain.
Sometimes he went to strange countries. But he was one who kept his eyes
open, and he learned to be more and more skilful in all sea matters.
About two years before the Revolutionary War, he was feeling
discouraged. He knew his employers were pirates in a way. He had met
with some trouble on his last voyage, so that he knew it was best not to
go to his brother's when he reached North Carolina from the West
Indies, and that he had best avoid using his own name. As he sat alone
on a bench in front of a tavern one afternoon, his head in his hands, a
jovial, handsome man came along. The man was well dressed, a
kind-hearted, rich Southerner. He hated to see people unhappy. After he
had passed John Paul, he turned back and going close to him, asked:
"What's your name, my friend?"
"I have none," was the answer.
"Where's your home?"
"I have none."
The stranger was struck with the face and figure of John Paul and
noticed that his handsome black eyes had a commanding expression. He
said to himself: "Here is a lad that will be of importance some day, or
my name is not Willie Jones!"
Then Willie Jones took John by the arm and said: "Come home with me. My
home is big enough for us both."
This was quite true, for Willie Jones had a beautiful estate called "The
Grove." The house was like a palace with its immense drawing-rooms,
wide fireplaces, carved halls, and spacious dining-room which overlooked
the owner's race track. For Willie Jones owned blooded horses, went to
country hunts, played cards, and had overseers to manage his fifteen
hundred slaves, who worked in Jones's tobacco fields and salt mines. His
clothes were of the first quality and his linen fine.
On a neighboring estate across the river lived Willie's brother, Allen
Jones. He was married to a dark-eyed beauty who gave parties in her
large ballroom, and who led the minuets and gavottes better than any of
her guests.
Just as John Paul had been at home on the estates of the Earl of Selkirk
in Scotland, he was now at home on both these southern plantations. By
both families he was petted and soon beloved. He seemed like one of
their own blood.
The people of North Carolina talked constantly of Liberty. They declared
themselves anxious to be independent of England. Soon after the famous
Boston Tea-party, the women of North Carolina pledged their word to
drink no more tea that was taxed.
John Paul took the same stand as his good friends. And he more than ever
felt he was born to do great deeds. And he hoped to prove his gratitude
to the Joneses by winning fame. From this time he took the name of John
Paul Jones. All his navy papers are signed that way. And he became an
American citizen.
Paul Jones's rise was rapid. In 1776 he became a lieutenant in the
Continental navy. The colonists had but five armed vessels; the
Alfred, on which Paul Jones served, was one of them. These five ships
were the beginning of the American navy. The captain of the Alfred was
slow in reaching his vessel, and so Paul Jones had to get the ship ready
for sea. He was so quick and sure in all his acts that the sailors all
liked him.
The ship was visited by the commodore of the squadron of five ships. He
found everything in such fine condition that he said: "My confidence in
you is so great that if the captain does not reach here by the time we
should get away, I shall hoist my flag on your ship and give you command
of her!"
"Thank you, Commodore," and Paul bowed, "when your flag is hoisted on
the Alfred, I hope a flag of the United Colonies will fly at the peak.
I want to be the man to raise that flag on the ocean."
The commodore laughed and replied: "As Congress is slow, I am afraid
there will not be time to make a flag after it actually decides what
that shall be."
"I think there will, Sir," answered Paul Jones.
It seems he knew almost for a certainty that the Continental Congress
had planned their first flag of the Revolution. It was to be of yellow
silk, showing a pine tree with a rattlesnake under it, and bearing the
daring motto: "Don't tread on me." Paul Jones had bought the material to
make one, out of his own pocket, and Bill Green, a quarter-master, sat
up all night to cut and sew the cloth into a flag.
Captain Saltonstall arrived in time to take command, but Paul Jones kept
his disappointment to himself and faithfully did the lieutenant's
duties. He had been drilling the men, and when the commodore came again
to inspect the ship, some four hundred, with one hundred marines, were
drawn up on deck. Bill Green and Paul Jones were very busy for a minute,
and just as the commodore came over the ladder at the ship's side, the
flag with the pennant flew up the staff, under Paul Jones's hand. Every
man's hat came off, the drummer boys beat a double ruffle on the drums,
and such cheers burst from every throat!
The commodore said to Paul Jones: "I congratulate you; you have been
enterprising. Congress adopted that flag but yesterday, and this one is
the first to fly."
Bill Green was thanked, too, and the squadron sailed for the open sea,
the Alfred leading the way.
Paul Jones was very daring, but his judgment and knowledge were so
perfect that in the twenty-three great battles which he fought upon the
seas, though many times wounded, he was never defeated. He made the
American flag, which he was the first to raise, honored, and he kept it
flying in the Texel with a dozen, double-decked Dutch frigates
threatening him in the harbor, while another dozen English ships were
waiting just beyond to capture him. He was offered safety if he would
hoist the French colors and accept a commission in the French navy, but
he never wavered. It was his pride to be able to say to the American
Congress: "I have never borne arms under any but the American flag, nor
have I ever borne or acted under any commission except that of the
Congress of America."
Paul Jones served without pay and used nearly all of his private fortune
for the cause of independence. Congress made him the ranking officer of
the American navy and gave him a gold medal. France conferred the cross
of a military order upon him and a gold sword. It was a beautiful day
when this cross was given him. The French minister gave a grand fête in
Philadelphia. All Congress was there, army and navy officers, citizens,
and sailors who had served under Jones. Against the green of the trees,
the uniforms of the officers and the white gowns of the ladies showed
gleamingly.
Paul Jones wore the full uniform of an American captain and his gold
sword. He carried his blue and gold cap in his hand. A military band
played inspiring airs as the French minister and Paul Jones walked
toward the center of the lawn. Paul Jones was pale but happy. He was
receiving an honor never before given a man who was not a citizen of
France, but as his eyes lighted on the stars and stripes floating above
him, they filled with tears, for his greatest joy of all was that he had
left the sands of Dee to become a citizen and defender of his beloved
America.
When the city of Boston, Massachusetts, was just a small town in which
there were no schools where boys and girls could learn to draw and
paint, one little fellow by the name of John Singleton Copley was quite
sure to be waiting at the door when his stepfather, Peter Pelham, came
home to dinner or supper, to ask why the pictures he had been drawing of
various people did not look like them. Peter Pelham could nearly always
tell John what the matter was, because he knew a good deal about
drawing. He made maps and engravings himself.
John remembered what his stepfather told him and practised until he made
really fine drawings. Then he began to color them. He did love gay
tints, and as both men and women wore many buckles and jewels, and
brocades and velvets of every hue in those days, he could make these
portraits as dazzling as he chose.
There is no doubt John loved to make pictures. He had drawn many a one
on the walls of his nursery when he was scarcely more than a baby. He
later covered the blank pages and margins of his school-books with faces
and animals. And instead of playing games with the other boys in
holidays, he was apt to spend such hours with chalks and paints.
When John was fourteen or fifteen, his portraits were thought so
lifelike that Boston people paid him good prices for them. He was glad
to earn money, for his kind stepfather died, leaving his wife to the
care of John and his stepbrother, Henry. He had been working and saving
for years when he married the daughter of a rich Boston merchant. This
wife, Suzanne, was a beautiful girl, proud of her husband's talent and
anxious for him to get on in the world. The artist soon bought a house
on Beacon Hill which had a fine view from its windows. He called this
estate, which covered eleven acres, his "little farm." You can guess how
large it looked when I tell you that the farm is to-day practically the
western side of Beacon Hill.
The young couple were happy and must have prospered, for a man who saw
the house on the hill wrote to his friends: "I called on John Singleton
Copley and found him living in a beautiful home on a fine open common;
dressed in red velvet, laced with gold, and having everything about him
in handsome style." It is evident John still liked bright colors.
John had never seen any really good paintings; he had never had any
teacher; and he longed to see the works of the old masters in other
countries. But at first he did not want to leave his old mother; then it
was the young wife who kept him here; and by and by he felt he could not
be away from his own dear little children, so it was not until he was
nearly forty that he went abroad.
In one of the first letters that Suzanne got from her husband he told of
the fine shops in Genoa. She laughed when she read that in a few hours
after he landed he bought a suit of black velvet lined with crimson
satin, lace ruffles for his neck and sleeves, and silk stockings. "I'd
know," she said to herself, "the suit would have a touch of
crimson—John does love rich colors!"
All his letters told how wonderful he found the old paintings and often
described his attempts to copy them. After he had visited the galleries
and museums of Italy, he went to England. He was delighted to find that
his wife and family had already fled there because of the Revolution in
America. He had heard of the trouble between the Colonists in America
and England and had worried night and day for fear harm would come to
Suzanne and the children. Of course he worried about the "little farm"
too, but it was no time to go back to Boston, and he could only hope his
agent would protect it.
The Copleys liked London, but some days they felt homesick for Beacon
Hill. Still he must keep earning money, and there were plenty of English
people who wanted to sit for their portraits, while of course, with the
fierce Revolution raging, and with soldiers camping everywhere, Boston
people did not care much about having their pictures painted.
In London John began to paint pictures that showed events in history.
Sometimes he would take for a subject a famous battle, sometimes a scene
from the English Parliament, or perhaps a king or lord doing some act
which we have read about in their lives. These pictures were immense in
size and took a long time to do, because Copley was particular to have
everything exactly true. George the Third was so much pleased with his
work that when he was going to paint the large work "The Siege of
Gibraltar", his Majesty sent him, with his wife and eldest daughter, to
Hanover, to take the portraits of four great generals of that country,
who had proved their bravery and skill on the rock of Gibraltar. All the
uniforms, swords, banners, and scenery were as perfect as if Copley had
been at the siege himself, and the officers' faces were just like
photographs. The king was very kind and generous. He told Copley not to
hurry back to England but to enjoy Hanover thoroughly, and to give his
wife and daughter a holiday they would never forget. To enable Copley to
go into private homes and look at art treasures which the public never
saw, the king gave him a letter asking this courtesy, written with his
own hand.
This large canvas, "The Siege of Gibraltar", is owned by the city of
London. There is another huge painting, "The Death of Lord Chatham", at
Kensington Museum, which Americans like to see. It shows old Lord
Chatham falling in a faint at the House of Lords. The poor man was too
sick to be there, but he was a strong friend to the American Colonies
and had declared over and over again that the king ought not to tax
them. When he heard there was to be voting on the question, he rose from
his bed and drove in a carriage to the House to say once more how wicked
it was. The members of the House of Lords look very imposing with their
grave faces and robes of scarlet, trimmed with ermine, but they
sometimes act in a childish manner and show temper. One man who almost
hated Chatham for so defending the Colonies sat as still as if he were
carved out of stone when the poor old lord dropped to the floor. This
picture shows him sitting as cold and stiff as a ramrod while all the
other members have sprung to their feet or have rushed to help the
fainting man.
The Boston Public Library holds one of Copley's historical pictures. It
shows a scene from the life of Charles the First of England. He is
standing in the speaker's chair in the House of Commons, demanding
something which the speaker, kneeling before him, is unwilling to tell.
There is plenty of chance for John Copley to show his love for brilliant
coloring, for the suits of the king, his nephew, Prince Rupert, and his
followers are of velvets and satins, the slashed sleeves showing facings
of yellow, cherry, and green. The knee breeches are fastened with
buckles over gaudy silk stockings and high-heeled slippers. The men wear
deep collars of lace, curled wigs, and velvet hats with sweeping plumes.
But in a picture at Buckingham Palace called "The Three Princesses"
there is a riot of color. The scene is a garden, beyond which the towers
of Windsor Castle show, with the flag of England floating above it; there are fruit-trees and flowers, parrots of gay plumage, and pet dogs.
The little girls' gowns are rainbow-like, and one of them is dancing to
the music of a tambourine. It is a darling picture, and the royal couple
prized it greatly.
When John Copley was only a young man, he sent a picture from Boston to
England, asking that it might be placed on exhibition at the Royal
Academy. It was called "The Boy and the Flying Squirrel." The boy was a
portrait of his half-brother, Henry Pelham. Copley sent no name or
letter, and it was against the rules of the Academy to hang any picture
by an unknown artist, but the coloring was so beautiful that the rule
was broken, and crowds stopped before the Boston lad's canvas to admire
it. When it was discovered that John Copley painted it, and it was known
he had received no lessons at that time, he was urged to go abroad at
once. At the time he could not. But the praise encouraged him to keep
on, and before he had a chance to visit Italy, he had painted nearly
three hundred pictures. Nearly all of these were painted at the "little
farm" on Beacon Hill, when he or Suzanne would hardly have dreamed the
day would come when he should be the favorite of kings and courts.