



Produced by David Widger





CAPTAIN PAUL

By Alexandre Dumas, Pere




INTRODUCTION.

The admirers of "The Pilot," one of the most magnificent of Cooper's
novels, have evinced a general feeling of regret, in which we ourselves
have deeply participated, that the book, once finished, we altogether
lose sight of the mysterious being whom we had followed with such
intense interest, through the narrows of the Devil's Grip, and the
Cloisters of St, Ruth. There is in the physiognomy, in the language, and
in the actions of this person, introduced in the first place by the name
of John, and afterwards under that of Paul, a melancholy so profound, a
grief so bitter, a contempt of life of so intense a nature, that every
reader desires to become acquainted with the motives which influenced so
brave and generous a heart. For ourselves, we acknowledge that we have
more than once been tempted, however indiscreet, to say the least of
it, it might have been, to write to Cooper himself, and ask him for
information regarding the early career and closing years of this
adventurous seaman--information which we have vainly searched for in his
narrative. I thought that such a request would be readily forgiven by
him to whom it was addressed, for it would have been accompanied by the
expression of the most sincere and ardent admiration of his work; but I
was restrained by the reflection that the author himself, perhaps, knew
no more of that career, of which, he had given us but an episode, than
that portion of it which had been illuminated by the sun of American
Independence: for, in fact, this brilliant meteor had passed from the
clouds which environed his birth to the obscurity of his death in such
a manner, that it was quite possible the "poet historian," being far
distant from the place where his hero was born, and from the country in
which he died, knew no more of him than what he has transmitted to us.
The very mystery which surrounded him, may have been the cause of
his selecting Paul Jones to play a part in his annals. Urged by these
considerations, I resolved upon obtaining, by my own research, those
details which I had so often desired to receive from others. I searched
through the archives of the Navy; all I found there was a copy of the
letters of marque granted to him by Louis XVI. I examined the annals of
the Convention; I only found in them the Decree passed at the time of
his death. I questioned his contemporaries; they told me that he was
buried in the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. This was all the information I
could gather from my first attempts.

I then consulted our living library--Nodier, the learned--Nodier, the
philosopher--Nodier, the poet. After reflecting for a few moments, he
mentioned a small book written by Paul Jones himself, containing memoirs
of his life, bearing this motto, "Munera sunt Laudi." I started off
to hunt for this precious relic; but it was in vain I searched through
libraries, rummaged the old book-stalls--all that I could find was an
infamous libel, entitled, "_Paul Jones, ou Prophetie sur l'Amerique,
l'Angleterre, la France, l'Espagne et la Hollande_" which I threw from
me with disgust, before I had got through the fourth page, marvelling
that poisons should be so enduring, and be perfectly preserved, whilst
we search in vain for wholesome and nutritious food--I therefore
renounced all hope in this quarter.

Some time afterwards, while taking a voyage along our coast, having
started from Cherbourg, I visited St. Malo, Quimper, and l'Orient. Upon
my arrival at the latter place I recollected having read in a biography
of Paul Jones, that this celebrated seaman had been three times in that
port. This circumstance had struck me--I had noted down the dates, and
had only to open my pocket-book to ascertain them. I examined the naval
archives, and in them I actually found entries of the sojourn which
the two frigates, the Hanger, of eighteen guns, and the Indienne, of
thirty-two, had made in these roads. As to the reasons for their coming
there, whether from ignorance or neglect, the secretary who had kept
the register had omitted to assign them. I was just leaving the office
without further information, when I thought of inquiring of an old clerk
who was sitting there, whether there was no traditional recollection in
the country as to the captain of these two ships. The old man told me
that in 1784, he being then a boy, and employed in the Quarantine Office
at Havre, had seen Paul Jones there. He was at that time a commodore
in the fleet of the Count de Vaudreuil. The renowned courage of this
officer, and his extraordinary exploits, had made such an impression
upon him, that upon his, the clerk's, return to Brittany, he spoke of
him to his father, who then had charge of the Chateau d'Auray. Upon
hearing the name of Paul Jones, the old man started, and made a sign to
him to be silent--the young man obeyed, though not without astonishment.
He frequently afterwards questioned his father upon the subject, but he
always refused to satisfy his curiosity. It was not till after the death
of the Marchioness d'Auray, the emigration of her son, the Marquis, and
the dispersion of the family at the Revolution, that the old man felt
himself permitted to reveal, even to his son, the strange and mysterious
history, in which that of the object of my inquiries was so singularly
blended. Although nearly, forty years had passed away since his father
had related that eventful history, it had made so deep an impression
upon him that he repeated it to me, as he assured me, nearly word for
word.

I have treasured up this history in the